


What Are Men to Rocks and Mountains?

by hellowkatey



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pride and Prejudice Fusion, Angst, Assassination Attempt(s), Ballroom Dancing, Canon Compliant, Canon Related, Canon-Typical Violence, Cross-Posted on Tumblr, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi, Pride and Prejudice References, Self-Indulgent, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:34:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 40,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27929104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellowkatey/pseuds/hellowkatey
Summary: The full story of Obi-Wan and Satine's year together when they were young. From rough beginnings, to overcoming pride and prejudices, and to eventually falling in love.
Relationships: Bo-Katan Kryze & Satine Kryze, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Quinlan Vos, Obi-Wan Kenobi/Satine Kryze, Qui-Gon Jinn & Obi-Wan Kenobi
Comments: 28
Kudos: 41





	1. Humorless Poppycocks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there friends. I am super excited to be beginning this project. Pride and Prejudice is one of my favorite books and movies. It always has reminded me of Obi-Wan and Satine's quick-witted dynamic, so this was inevitable.
> 
> This is my first dedicated Obitine fic, so hopefully, all goes well:) This first chapter is mostly set-up but I have a lot of big things planned for the upcoming chapters
> 
> Finally, if you have never read/seen P&P, no problem! I have used it as a general skeleton, but it is probably more plot-divergent than it is similar. You certainly don't need to have read it to understand what is going on, though I will always recommend watching the movie because it's a m a z i n g. (If you are a P&P fan though, watch out for some references!)
> 
> Enjoy, and be sure to leave reviews if you have them!

_“What are men to rocks and mountains? Oh! what hours of transport we shall spend! And when we do return, it shall not be like other travelers, without being able to give one accurate idea of any thing. We will know where we have gone—we will recollect what we have seen. Lakes, mountains, and rivers shall not be jumbled together in our imaginations."_

-Jane Austen, _Pride and Prejudice_

* * *

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that there is a calm at the end of a storm. A period of peace following a great conflict.

However, Mandalore has never been known for having a healthy relationship with peace, and Satine Kryze has a sinking feeling the violence will sustain forever.

"Lady Satine?" a soft yet firm voice pulls her out of her musings. Satine looks over her shoulder to see her personal bodyguard and cousin, Kira, standing in the doorway. Satine has always liked Kira. Her bright red hair and sharp cheekbones remind her of her sister, but her body is built with thick-bones and dense muscle like she was specifically designed for war. Satine asked for Kira personally to accompany her to Coruscant. A part of her feels bad. Kira is a warrior. Kind and quiet, yes, but as soon as her beskar helmet it on it's like she becomes another person. Satine knows she would like to be back on Mandalore, fighting amongst the rest of House Kryze in the Great Clan Wars, but her father was unrelenting in his decision to send her away. 

"Yes Kira, is it time?" 

Kira nods and Satine rises, checking herself one last time in the mirror. Even with the traditional Mandalorian gown and beskar headdress across her forehead, Satine still sees an eighteen-year-old girl staring back at her. She twists one of the tendrils of hair around her finger to perfect the curl and then follows Kira out of her housing unit. 

She was called into the audience of Chancellor Valorum. It is quite an unexpected meeting, as she has not met with the chancellor one-on-one for a few months. Even Kira seems unsettled, not saying a word as they cross the courtyard to the Senate building. 

As the elevator ascends up to Valorum's office, Satine can't shake the feeling that something is wrong. She has this feeling of dread deep inside that is getting more and more difficult to conceal. The elevator doors open, and Kira gives her a small smile. 

" _Udesirr_ ," she whispers.

Satine smiles. "I am the embodiment of _udesla."_

Chancellor Valorum is sitting at his desk, but Satine immediately realizes he is not alone. Two men stand before the desk, one tall and one short. As she steps into the office they both turn around, and Satine realizes her first judgment was incorrect-- One man and one boy. 

The bearded man would be intimidating if it weren't for his kind eyes. His long brown hair trails down past his shoulders, half of it pulled back into a loose braid. The boy looks young, maybe around her age, but from his youthful features, it is difficult to tell. His bright blue eyes watch her carefully, but he doesn't have a welcoming smile as the other does. Just a neutral expression and his arms crossed over his chest. Strange haircuts must be the style, as the boy has an uneven buzz cut, ponytail, and a thin braid originating from behind his ear. Both of them are outfitted in oversized tan robes, brown pants, and boots. _Jedi_ , Satine realizes, spotting a cylindrical weapon at the hip of the man. 

"Lady Kryze," Valorum says, standing in her presence. "Apologies, it seems my prior meeting has run long."

"Oh I can wait--"

"Nonsense," the man smiles at her. "We were just leaving." 

They bow and walk out the way Satine came. The door closes and she is alone with Chancellor Valorum. 

"Have you met any Jedi before?" he inquires, sitting down in unison with her. 

"I have not, sir. Though, I have heard much about them." 

Mandalorians and the Jedi do not exactly have the brightest of history. In a way, Satine finds it ironic. A large portion of Mandalorian culture comes from their hatred for Jedi. Beskar was developed to withstand their infamous lightsabers. It has been a long time since they have been in conflict with one another, but she's certainly heard many warriors describe their dream to battle against a Jedi one day. They are both a pinnacle enemy and highly-respected opponents. 

Chancellor Valorum chuckles. "I'm sure you have. Strange beings, those Jedi. I don't quite understand them, but they are effective in keeping the peace." 

Satine shifts in her seat. She can feel him holding back. She wasn't called here to chat about the Jedi. "Chancellor, I must say, this sudden meeting has made me anxious. Is there news from my father?" 

His face falls neutral. "Right. Forgive me Lady Kryze, I have been doing this a long time but delivering unsettling news still is the most difficult part of my job." Satine can feel everything around her tunnel. She grips the arms of the chair, nodding for him to continue. "I received word from Clan Kryze. The fighting has gotten worse. A group known as Death Watch seems to have arrived on the scene and they are in strong opposition to the New Mandalorians." 

Her throat goes dry. She can feel tears itching to flow but she takes a deep breath to hold them back. "Do we know who is behind the Death Watch yet?"

"I'm afraid I don't have any more details. The message was brief, but you were specifically asked to be updated." 

"And what of the death toll?" 

A pause. He looks at her with pity, and that is answer enough. "I... I will have my assistant send you the latest reported counts." 

A million thoughts are running through her head, but none of them are helpful on what to do now. What can she do? She stares forward, vaguely aware that Chancellor Valorum is still speaking, but it's like he's whispering at the other end of a tunnel. 

_I hate being here so far from everything. How can we reach a peaceful Mandalore through such violence? My father sent me here to learn diplomacy and what have I done with it?_

"...and of course, if you must miss the Galactic Senate Ball this evening, we all would understand." 

Satine blinks. She's forgotten all about the ball. 

"I do appreciate the gesture, but I'm afraid it may be in vain. I will convene with my advisors and see what I can do," Satine stands, bowing. "But likely, I will be there. It is not every day I can appeal to any senator in the Republic without having to call for speaking privileges."

Chancellor Valorum smiles, standing. "I admire your strength, Lady Kryze. I'm sure many of our fine senators would be happy to give you some wisdom." 

Satine leaves, meeting Kira in the hallway. Kira is smart enough to not ask about official business, but Satine knows she is dying for an update. 

"It was bad news, Kira." 

"Is it ever good news?" 

"One day, I hope." 

* * *

Obi-Wan trails close behind his master as they depart from Chancellor Valorum's office. He takes one last glance at the Mandalorian politician as they pass. She's much younger than he expected. Maybe even younger than him, though she holds herself with the confidence of someone much older and experienced. He offers a small smile, but she looks away. 

They reach the elevator, and only once the doors are closed Obi-Wan sighs. 

"A ball, Master?" 

Qui-Gon's lips upturn with amusement. "I hope you attended all your ballroom dancing lessons, padawan." 

"I did. But... I just don't understand what we could do there. Lady Kryze is going to be at an invite-only event, surrounded by senators and guards. Why does the Chancellor want Jedi there too?"

"Obi-Wan, you do know the history of Mandalorians and the Jedi, do you not?" 

"Of course I do, master," 

"Well, right now Mandalore is in the midst of a bloody civil war. Lady Kryze is the next in line to be the ruler of Mandalore and is, therefore, a high-risk target for assassination."

Qui-Gon stops, looking at Obi-Wan expectedly. This is the part where Master Jinn expects him to connect the rest of the dots. 

"And if Jedi are one of the few able to battle against Mandalorian warriors, then we should be present in case an attempt is made on her life." 

Qui-Gon nods. "Precisely, my padawan. You know, I thought you would be excited about this. You do have a way with Senators, after all." 

Obi-Wan shifts uncomfortably. Yes, he has been known to pull out the stops when it comes to charming politicians. He has found it is the easiest way to have the least possible resistance. That doesn't mean he _likes_ politicians, though. In fact, they are high on his list of parties he prefers to not associate with. How can he trust one to be his friend when much of them can hardly be trusted to advocate for their people over their own interests? Or the interests of those who pay for these fancy parties and upper-level apartments? 

"It is easy to be the favorite among politicians with a master who despises them."

"That isn't-- I don't _despise_ them." 

"Right, that would not be the Jedi way." 

Qui-Gon chuckles. They reach the first floor and walk out toward the speeder to head back to the Temple. _Apparently,_ he has a ball to prepare for. 

* * *

Luckily, her best gown is back from the cleaners. Satine spends the time after her meeting with the Chancellor preparing for the ball. If she's lucky, she can connect with some of the other senators and ask their advice for ending this war peacefully. Her advisors have whispered of various contacts that envision a pacifist future for Mandalore-- something Satine is deeply intrigued by. Many think achieving peace and having a strong militant history are mutually exclusive. She believes the opposite. Peace is best achieved by having a strong defense in place. It is just a matter of changing the public opinion-- war does not mean they must be on the offensive. 

Satine pulls her hair from the curlers, allowing the ringlets to fall around her slender face. One by one she pins them up in a messy yet elegant updo, leaving a few pieces for framing. By the time she finishes the final touches on her makeup, the dressing servants come to aid her in dressing. She holds the crimson-colored dress gingerly in her hands. The last time she wore this was a good day. The fighting on Mandalore had reached a stalemate, and there were talks of resolution. For a moment, Satine thought she was going home. 

To no avail. The fighting resumed not a day later.

She straps the golden belt around her waist and thanks to the women for aiding her. They leave her to examine the woman she now sees in the mirror. It is alarming to see herself so done up. So mature. It feels as though only days ago she was running through the palace with Bo, yelling to her father to stop her younger sister from putting her in a headlock. It was not days ago, though, but years. Satine can't remember the last moment she had as a child... not that it matters. Childhood follies are just distractions from the real world, and to rule Mandalore she will need to understand what is out there. 

Like this ball. A child would be excited about the dancing and the food. An adult-- a future ruler-- is eager to network and compare policies. 

She arrives at the ball, which is being held in one of the premier venues on Coruscant. Tall, cathedral-esque architecture with massive floor to ceiling windows remind Satine of the palace at Sundari her father often spent summers at.

However, when she looks around the room she doesn't see other Mandalorians. Senators and politicians and other high-up officials in the Galactic Republic move through the massive space in clusters reminiscent of the various systems. Suddenly she wishes she brought Kira along. She gave her the night off since prior experience has taught Satine that Kira is not exactly interested in the static nature of politics... but at least she would have someone to latch on to. 

Satine takes a deep breath, spotting a few senators from systems near Mandalore she has collaborated with before. 

Satine manages a few conversations with various politicians. Nothing of much substance, as it seems many of the senators have decided to take the night off for political conversation besides those topics that directly benefit their own causes. After a while, she finds herself at the side of Senator Mina Bonteri of Onderon. She too is fairly young, and the two of them have had tea a few times while on Coruscant. 

"I'm surprised to not see you dancing, Satine," Mina says, giving her a mischievous side-eye. "You know I am pretty sure I saw the Senator of Correlia sneaking glances in your direction." 

She looks over where the Senator of Corellia stands. A handsome man, though quite a few years her senior. He glances in her direction, smiling softly. She looks away, as though she didn't see him. 

"I haven't the energy to deal with the games men have to offer."

"They're not all bad." 

"Humorless poppycocks, in my limited experience." 

Mina chuckles, placing an affectionate arm around Satine's shoulder. "One of these days, Satine, someone will catch your eye and you'll have to watch your tongue." 

"Oh, believe me, they will only _catch my eye_ if they can keep up with my wit." 

Mina rolls her eyes, turning to greet another senator standing nearby. Satine sighs, looking out at the crowd once again. Suddenly her perception changes. She had not noticed before, but many of the politicians are grouped up. Coupled up. Spouses clutching the arms of their esteemed significant others. Laughing and mingling and even dancing. An affectionate hand upon the small of the other's back. Fixing the collars and brushing back stray hairs. Satine's romantic history is... limited, to say the least. Her advisors like to tell her she must smile more to appear more approachable. (Some have even asked her if she has marriage prospects. Marriage? She is hardly eighteen!) The stubbornness within her resents these tips. She won't survive a political career with a pretty smile. That's what her father taught her, and she takes his word over that of push-over advisors. 

Her scan stops on an unexpected sight. Across the room stand the two Jedi from earlier in Chancellor Valorum's office. As her eyes rest on them, she finds the younger one is already looking in her direction. His gaze sparks surprise in her. He hardly paid a moment of attention to her when in the office, though their interactions were only in passing. How curious they would be here tonight. _In their raggedy Jedi tunics as well, no doubt._ Yes, the Jedi stand out like a sore thumb in the mess of frilly diplomats and their homeworld fashions. It's a miracle she hadn't seen them earlier. 

Satine taps the arm of Mina. "Why would Jedi be here?" 

Mina looks up, easily finding the two outcasts. "Protection detail, likely." 

"I saw them speaking with Chancellor Valorum earlier." 

"Maybe they're there for him. Though I'm not aware of any threats on his life as of lately." 

Satine strokes her chin, watching as the young Jedi continues to periodically look away and then back in her direction. It doesn't sit right with her. 

She excuses herself, pushing through the crowd in a roundabout path. Satine manages to make her way to the backside of where the Jedi are standing, ducking behind a column that brings her close enough to hear their conversation. 

"Padawan, you aren't exercising your charisma nearly as much as I expected," the older one says with a hint of sarcasm. He reminds her of the peace-protesters that would sit upon the steps of the Keldabi palace for days upon days. Some took to calling them the _hetiks._

"If this were a Jedi dance, maybe Master, but we do have a task, do we not?" The younger has a Core accent that makes his speech sound eloquent and a little sassy. It was not at all the voice she expected out of the strange boy, but now that she hears it she can't imagine what alternate accent he would have. 

"Indeed, but that does not mean you can't have a dance or two. What are those ballroom dancing lessons for if you never use them." 

The boy turns to the man, looking distressed... or maybe annoyed? He runs his fingers through his short, auburn hair. "I have utilized them! I think that one time was sufficient to justify them since I gained the trust of the ruler's niece."

"Yes, Obi-Wan, you did a good job. I still would encourage you to loosen up. You are staring at the crowd like a security droid. What about Lady Kryze? I believe she is around your age."

Satine perks up. _How do they know my name?_ She watches the learner Jedi's reaction closely and is dismayed when he rolls his eyes. 

"How humorous. I think not, Master." 

Satine staggers back, shocked at the Jedi with the _ponytail_ rejecting the mere prospect of dancing with her. Having heard enough, she walks off to find Mina again and relay the outrageous conversation she just overheard. 

* * *

She manages to avoid the stare of the Jedi for the remainder of the ball. After spending so long with the chaos of thousands of people in a ballroom and the mass exodus of party-goers piling into every available air taxi, Satine opts to just walk back to her housing unit. It's only a block away, and fresh air is enticing. 

The night is cool. Not so cold that she is uncomfortable in her long-sleeved, layered gown, but enough that it refreshes her. She expected to be able to get some help, or at minimum, some advice. In the end, the most useful information given to her was Mina's suggestion to tell the Jedi to "kriff off". Her questions were either dodged or outright denied. It is frustrating, but she reminds herself of what she is asking. 

It is a blessing and curse that nobody wants to touch Mandalore. The reputation of the people is widespread, but that also makes it difficult to find help. They're afraid of Mandalore turning against them. They don't understand the honor that her people hold in such high regard. Mandalorians are collectivist people and wouldn't betray those who reach out to help.

Satine crosses her arms and walks quicker. The movement makes her feel better, less restricted. It has been a long time since she has been able to have alone time on her own accord. Even in her own home, she is supervised. She thinks wistfully about the gardens on Sundari. The well-kept hedges and lovely flora so carefully tended to. It was always her safe place. Where she'd go to get some time to herself. 

Coruscant is no such garden. Satine is fairly sure there isn't a patch of grass on the entire megapolis. 

She rounds the corner, the building of her housing unit in view. A feeling of dread fills her, and she slows. _Just a few more moments_. Even if it is standing in the dimly-lit streets, it is something. 

Unfortunately, the feeling of security is temporary. 

From the shadows, she hears a click, and then suddenly she's restrained. A cloth shoved in her mouth and strong hands encircle her body and she can hear the sound of whoever has grabbed her fumbling for something. The adrenaline hits and Satine starts thrashing around, trying to flail her way into catching this captor off guard. She spits the rag out of her mouth and screams.

"Get off me!" she bellows. "Help, please some--"

"You heard her, bounty hunter." A low voice says, followed by a sharp whooshing noise. Bright green lights illuminate the alleyway. Her captor turns quickly, putting her between him and two familiar faces. 

The Jedi stand before her, the master with his lightsaber ignited and the padawan in a ready position. Both of them stare at the bounty hunter with a frightening intensity, and she can feel the captor quiver. 

"I didn't get paid enough for this," the bounty hunter huffs. "I 'et her go, and you 'et me walk free."

The Jedi Master smirks. "Sounds like a deal," 

"Master!" the padawan says under his breath, glancing at the Jedi deactivate his saber. 

For a moment she shares the sentiments of the young Jedi. Why would he shieth his weapon so hastily? Satine expects the bounty hunter to betray them, but instead, he releases her. She staggers forward, only for the boy to jump forward to catch her. She pulls out of his grip and stands behind the master, leaving him looking bewildered. 

"I guess I be going then--" the bounty hunter says, backing away slowly. Satine can now see it's a Rodian who came after her, with syringes strapped to his side. _He was going to drug me!_

"Oh, not so fast," the Jedi Master says, reaching out his hand. The Rodian freezes and is slowly pulled closer. "We have a few questions for you if you don't mind." 

"We had a --"

"You will go free, but only if you answer my questions." The Rodian looks defeated, but nods. The Jedi releases his grip on him, and the bounty hunter staggers to his knees. He looks over at his padawan and Satine. "Obi-Wan, take Lady Kryze to her unit. I will meet you there momentarily." 

Satine steps forward in protest. "Sir, I deserve to know why this bounty hunter is after me!" 

He doesn't look phased by her outburst, which annoys her even more. "I promise to inform you of all my findings, but it is better if you are safe with your security than out here in the open. I will come to meet you as soon as I converse with my Rodian friend here." He nods at Obi-Wan and Satine feels a tentative hand at the center of her back. Feeling like she is only going to lose this battle, she complies. Her first order of business is stepping out of Obi-Wan's reach, and then walking ahead of him toward her housing unit. 

* * *

Never has there been a more awkward lift ride. Obi-Wan is quite sure he couldn't even cut the tension with his lightsaber. He's not sure _why_ Lady Kryze seems to _despise_ him, but he's in no mood to try and spark a discussion over it. 

He helped save her life and she swats him away like he's the bad guy? Who does she think she is? Just because she is a Mandalorian and he is a Jedi doesn't mean they must be inherent enemies!

Obi-Wan pushes away the very un-Jedi-like thoughts, closing his eyes and letting the Force calm him. He's going to require a long meditation tonight. 

The lift comes to a stop and the doors open. Lady Kryze steps out without even looking at him. He trails behind her, focusing instead on her apartment. 

It is smaller than other senator's chambers he has been in. He supposes she isn't exactly a Senator, but he expected more all the same. The main room is simple and sparsely decorated to the point it looks like it could be straight out of the Jedi Temple. The only signs that lifeforms do indeed live in this unit are the blankets strewn across the back of the couch and various pots of houseplants on shelves and side tables. 

From one of the rooms comes another young woman. She looks to be in her mid-twenties, dressed in nightclothes, and toting a blaster strapped to her hip. Though her hair is red, he can tell there must be some sort of familial connection between her and Lady Kryze from their matching high cheekbones.

"Satine how was-- oh." the woman's critical eyes are on him now. Another similarity between the two women.

"Jedi." Lady Kryze says, only giving Obi-Wan a glance. 

"Is _this_ your version of teenage rebellion?" the woman scoffs, still sizing up Obi-Wan. He doesn't really know what that is meant to imply but he has a feeling it is an insult. 

"Uh, greetings. I am Obi-Wan Kenobi," he says, bowing to the woman since it appears obvious Lady Kryze has no intention of providing further context. She seems to think he is a boy she brought home from the ball, which makes him rather warm in the cheeks to think about.

"I am Kira, Lady Satine's head of security." 

It explains the blaster, at least. 

"Well, then I suppose it is you I should inform Lady Kryze was attacked." 

Kira whirls around, a sudden fire in her eyes. "Attacked?" 

Satine looks at Obi-Wan with her own fire and then turns her attention to Kira, explaining what happened. Within moments, Obi-Wan feels like his presence has been forgotten. He checks his commlink, hoping for a message from his master or really _anything_ to get him out of this unit. 

Thankfully he is saved by the doors opening and Qui-Gon striding in. 

The two young women stop, staring at the Jedi Master. Qui-Gon tends to have that effect. 

"I apologize for the attack, Lady Kryze. We got there as soon as we could." 

She crosses her arms, her piercing blue eyes looking like they could drill a hole right through Qui-Gon, but her expression softens. "Well, I thank you for the assistance, Master Jedi. Though, I can't help but sense there are a number of things you are not telling me."

"My name is Master Qui-Gon Jinn, and this is my Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi. We were asked by Chancellor Valorum to keep an eye on you." 

"Keep an _eye_ _on me?"_

"Protect you, ma'am," Obi-Wan says, immediately regretting her attention back on him. "He feared something like this would happen." 

There is a lull. Kira puts her hand on Lady Kryze's shoulder in comfort. The blonde Mandalorian looks back at Qui-Gon. "Why wouldn't he tell me he ordered me a pair of Jedi bodyguards." 

Qui-Gon clasps his hands together. "He felt it best for us to keep our distance until an actual threat of danger was confirmed. It was both an investigation and a protection detail. I'm afraid, this is the danger he was referring to." 

Obi-Wan watches Lady Kryze's expression change. She shifts from a stony expression to a bit dazed-- like the realization of her near-kidnapping has just hit. It doesn't last long though. Within a few seconds, she's back to a neutral look. 

"So what now?" she asks, her voice less argumentative. 

"I will report to the Chancellor what has happened and, if you will have us, we would like to stay and protect you." 

Kira now steps forward. "I am perfectly capable of handling Lady Satine's security." 

_Obviously not if you let her walk home alone,_ Obi-Wan thinks. 

Qui-Gon nods. "I do not wish to overstep. Just to help. Obviously, the bounty hunter was aware of your residence since he waited on your route home." 

This also seems to affect Lady Kryze. She looks at Kira, placing a hand at the crook of her elbow. "For tonight, I will accept their help. But we will get this all sorted out with the Chancellor first thing tomorrow." Kira and Qui-Gon both nod in agreement. Lady Kryze then turns her attention back to Qui-Gon. "So. You promised me answers. Let's hear why that Rodian tried to abduct me." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Udesiir -- Mando'a for relax, take it easy, find respite  
> Udesla -- Mando'a for serene, relaxed  
> hetiks-- a slang term that is similar to the Mando'a word for "noseburn" or the smell of something spicy or tangy


	2. A Jetti?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Satine finds out why she was attacked. Some familiar faces show up unannounced. Obi-Wan would rather be anywhere else.

Obi-Wan and the young Mandalorian sulk off toward the housing tenement. Qui-Gon chuckles at the way she brushes away his padawan's attempts to helpful. Someone finally immune to the annoying effective Kenobi Charm? That could be endlessly entertaining. 

He looks back at the Rodian's nervous eyes. "Don't fret. Though I usually am not one to go easy on attempted kidnappers, I think this is not the case. How deep in the hole are you?" 

"The hole?" 

"You know what I mean. How many credits?" 

The Rodian looks alarmed, but Qui-Gon can sense the relief and guilt radiating off him. His suspicions are correct. 

"I wa'... approached by this young man. 'aid he would pay me good money to bring him the young lady. Live, course. It was... a 'nificant amount. Enough to cover the debt."

"Have you met this man prior?" 

"Came to me off the 'treet. Don't know how he... knew." The Rodian looks down at his feet, his antennae sagging. "I need thirty-thousand. Gave five upfront. Didn't want to hurt 'er but..."

Qui-Gon is fairly sympathetic to the struggling Rodian. The enticing tactics of underground gambling rings are designed to trap the inhabitants into a lifetime of fear and debt. He sees it all over the galaxy... but not every gambler attempts to kidnap a future planet leader. 

"Did this man tell you anything else? Do you remember what he looks like?" 

"Gave me these," he reaches down slowly for the syringes. "Sedative." 

Qui-Gon takes them, slipping them into his cloak pocket. "And his appearance?" 

"Wa' dark. He was young, though. Tall and had two knives on his hips. Big knives, super shiny." 

_Strange the things people will focus on when frightened. Somehow it never seems to be the actual faces of their fears._

"I thank you for cooperating. If you can think of more details or see the man I implore you to contact me, the Jedi Temple, or the Coruscant police as soon as possible," he hands him his comlink code on a slip of paper. The Rodian holds it gingerly between his fingers, looking up at Qui-Gon meekly before slipping it into his pocket. 

"May I go, Master Jedi?" 

Qui-Gon nods, and the Rodian scurries back into the shadows. 

* * *

Satine listens to the Jedi Master explain the story of the Rodian and the botched job of her kidnapping. As he concludes, her own thoughts are verbalized from a surprising source. 

"Master, how could you let him go?" Obi-Wan says with a surprising amount of scold in his inflection. She stares at him and his eyebrows wrinkled with outrage. 

"I trusted in the Force, _padawan_. A lesson I would be happy to go over with you at a later time." 

_Ouch_. Satine has the Force-sensitivity of a piece of beskar, but even she could sense the displeasure radiating from Master Jinn, and Obi-Wan's resulting backpedal. He sits back on the couch, looking as if he would melt into the background if he were capable. Master Jinn finishes his briefing and Satine rises. 

"I believe I shall take my leave then. Kira can show you to the guest rooms if you are to stay." 

The Jedi look at one another and the elder nods. They stand, bowing to her. 

"We will ensure your safety, Lady Satine. Sleep well." Master Jinn says. Satine glances at Obi-Wan, who doesn't say a word, only looks up at her with those big blue-green eyes. 

She walks to her room with the elegance she has been taught to display all her life. But as soon as the doors close she settles on the seat at the end of her bed, staring forward with an unfocused gaze. 

That could have been _it_. Her demise via gambling junky with a syringe of maker-knows-what. Somehow it was less comforting to have Jedi also lurking in the shadows. Even when she thought she was free, it was only an illusion. 

A tear streams down her cheek. She wipes it away with the back of her hand. What now? Will she be plagued by the company of Jedi until this civil war can be resolved? Will she perish in the near future? Though Coruscant felt like a punishment, it at least felt safe. It felt far enough away that she was just here to be protected by distance. 

But now... that distance has closed and for the first time, Satine is worried her time is running out. 

Her commlink begins to ring. _Never a moment alone_. She wipes a stray tear from her cheek, looking at the code. Surprise shoots through her and she accepts the holo. The blue glow erupts from the commlink displaying a familiar oval face and intense green eyes. 

"Hello, sister." 

"Bo?" Satine practically gasps. It's been years since she's heard from her sister, let alone seen her. When she last saw her, Bo-Katan was up to her chest at best. Long red hair hung down past her waist and was often braided in intricate designs. Sometimes Satine would be the one to weave the soft tendrils in an effort to mimic some of the latest Alderaanian styles.

It makes the short bob that ends at her jawline all the more jarring.

Gone are the chubby cheeks her father used to pinch to annoy her, and now she looks... well she looks like a young woman despite only being in her mid-teens. 

Thankfully, Bo-Katan also seems caught off guard by seeing Satine. She sees her blink a few times her eyes running up and down her holo figure. While Satine doesn't feel like she has changed much, she is sure she isn't the same gawky pre-adolescent that left Mandalore teary-eyed. She too lost the bulk of her baby fat as her puberty metabolism kicked in, giving way to assets that are not what she _hoped_ from her adult body... though Clan Kryze women are not exactly known for curves, and Satine is a Kryze through and through. 

"In the flesh... or the holo I suppose. Soon to be in the flesh though." 

Satine blinks. "What are you talking about?" 

Bo-Katan's neutral expression extends to a small smile. "I tried to contact you earlier but I decided a surprise would be more enjoyable." 

Satine shakes her head. She can't be _here_... can she? "Bo, where are you?" 

"Coruscant," she says. "Entering the atmosphere as we speak." 

* * *

Any bunk would be inadequate after sleeping in Lady Satine's guest room bed. Obi-Wan was hoping to spend a little more time with the soft pillows and warm blankets, but he woke to find the Mandalorian had already left at dawn with her security. Qui-Gon was sitting at the table, sampling some of her tea. 

"They just... left?" Obi-Wan had asked, grabbing a steaming mug. It _was_ excellent tea.

"Said they had somewhere to be." Qui-Gon seemed generally apathetic to the entire situation, which didn't surprise Obi-Wan.

"That quite defeats the purpose of being a bodyguard, doesn't it?" 

Qui-Gon smirked. "Indeed it does, Padawan." 

So they returned to the temple. Supposedly, Kira would contact them with their plan after meeting with the Chancellor, but a part of Obi-Wan feels like he would never see Lady Satine again. Maybe a good thing. She seems to vehemently dislike him for some reason. Obi-Wan isn't sure what it is-- she seems to tolerate Qui-Gon just fine so it isn't the historical Mandalorian-Jedi rift at play. 

Maybe he offended her? He can't imagine _when_ that could have happened, but then again he is not exactly up to snuff with Mandalorian culture. 

There is a knock at his door, and it opens slowly. "Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon calls, peeking his head in. "Get dressed, padawan." 

"A mission, master?" he says hopefully, pushing back the covers. 

"Satine Kryze has requested our presence." 

"Shocking," Obi-Wan mutters. 

Qui-Gon looks at him humorously. "This young lady has presented a challenge for you, padawan?" 

Obi-Wan stands from his bed, grabbing his outer robe and slipping it on over his undershirt. He gives his master his best look of indifference. "Hardly." 

The Jedi Master laughs like he knows something Obi-Wan doesn't and leaves him to finish dressing. 

Walking across the Senate courtyard toward Lady Satine's home brings a surprising amount of anxiety in Obi-Wan's belly. He tries to quell it, taking deep breaths and releasing his anxieties into the Force. Suddenly, Qui-Gon stops, looking down at his commlink. "Drat," he mutters. 

"Master?" 

"It seems I have been summoned to the council," he looks up at Obi-Wan. "Go, padawan, I will catch up with you." 

He looks at his master sheepishly. "Don't you think I should accompany you--"

"Padawan." 

"Right, of course, Master. Give the council my regards." 

_Fantastic_ , Obi-Wan thinks as he turns and continues his journey to Lady Satine's house. He has a bad feeling about this. At least with Master Jinn, he has the buffer of fading into the background, but alone? Stars, this will be interesting. What will he do wrong this time?

As if his day can't grow worse, he hears a rumble overhead. A few drops of precipitation drip onto his cheek and neck and Obi-Wan looks up at the darkened sky. _Just fantastic_. _"Let's walk, padawan," he said. "It's warmer than usual today, it will be lovely, Obi-Wan." Maker in heaven._

* * *

Satine stares at Bo-Katan, still in awe that her sister is really sitting in her living room. 

Well, not just Bo. Apparently, her visit is not the only surprise she brings to Coruscant. Accompanying her is Nel Raiko, a boy of Clan Vizla that Satine has seen little of since they were very young. He sits next to Bo, and Satine is far too aware of his intense eyes on her. 

Nel is not an unattractive boy. Most would consider him quite agreeable. His chocolate brown hair and dark complexion create a striking contrast for his light gray eyes. His jaw is square and defined, making him look closer to twenty-two than nineteen. Maybe it's his facial structure or maybe it's the beskar armor he's clad in. Painted gray with red accents, it makes him look much more built than he probably is under the plates of metal. 

Okay, maybe she does fancy him a little. Appearance-wise it is hard not to, and surprisingly he has proven himself to be a fair conversationalist in their short time together. Contrary to his intimidating appearance, his temperament is quite friendly. Quiet, but thoughtful.

Speaking of beskar, Satine is also surprised to see Bo is fully dressed in her own beskar suit, freshly painted with blue and white accents. She was not aware Bo was even allowed to be involved in the battle, but obviously, she has been outfitted for some reason. Satine makes a mental note to ask her father about that. She is fifteen? Sixteen? In any case, not old enough to be in battle. 

"...about you, Lady Satine?" Nel asks. Satine snaps out of staring at her guests and realizes she is being spoken to. 

"Pardon?" 

"Have you heard of the state of Mandalore?" 

Satine cringes. She read the reports the Chancellor sent over that morning. The death tolls are high, and the capital has been all but ravaged. Clan Kryze has begun to shift its center of operations to Sundari for more coverage. There were unfortunately no messages from her father, but she suspects he is wrapped up with the transition. 

"Indeed, I keep up with reports." 

"But have you seen it?" Bo cuts in. 

"First hand? No. Some holos though."

"It's bad," her sister says bluntly. "Even with holos you really have no idea, do you?" 

_Okay_. Satine shifts uncomfortably, suddenly feeling like the room is warmer. There is an intensity behind Bo-Katan's eyes that seems to be staring straight through her. Even Nel seems to be avoiding her gaze. 

"Do you think I _chose_ this? To be away from my home?" 

Bo folds her arms over her chest. "No. I'm just saying." 

"Believe me, Bo, I am not satisfied with how little I have been involved, but we both know why I am here," Satine glances up at Nel. "Though I am still curious as to why _you_ have come." 

Bo-Katan opens her mouth to reply but they are interrupted by one of the servants walking in. "The Jedi, Lady Satine." 

_Amazing. What great timing they have._ She can feel the stares of both Bo and Nel, but she chooses not to look at them. "Thank you, send them in." 

"Jedi?" Nel whispers. Satine catches him throwing a look at her sister. The door opens and in walks not two Jedi, but one. Satine signs. Obi-Wan. 

The padawan walks in, looking just as off-guard as Satine feels. Per custom, she stands, and they bow together. "Lady Satine," he says in that polite Core accent. 

"Maker, Jedi, did you walk here?" Bo asks, looking at the young man incredulously. 

Indeed, the padawan is soaking wet from the morning rains and much of him has turned into a blob of soggy brown. His auburn hair is stuck to his forehead and that ratty braid is flush to his neck. It is obvious the Jedi robes are not exactly made for water resistance since they seem to have retained every drop of rainwater that found him, dripping melodically on her floors. 

Satine hides her amusement. He looks quite ridiculous, but his unbothered temperament makes it even more hilarious. 

"I did," he says dryly, pausing to take in the new occupants of the room. "Sorry, I do not believe we have met," he says, and Satine realizes he is waiting for her to give an introduction. 

"Bo, Nel, this is Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi. His Master, Qui-Gon is also usually here but he..."

"Was called away for the afternoon." Obi-Wan finishes, grimacing. 

"Right. And this is my sister Lady Bo-Katan Kryze, and Nel Raiko of Clan Vizla." 

"A pleasure," he says, though Satine has a feeling he does not consider this particularly pleasurable. "I was told you summoned us." 

Another look from Bo bores into the side of Satine's head-- which she ignores yet again. A conversation for later. "The chancellor recommended your company and as you know when he gives a recommendation, it is more of an order as a guest of the Republic. So... Kira is usually granted leave during the weekends and I thought you... and your Master could monitor my security in her absence." 

"I am at your disposal, Lady Satine... though, could I trouble you for directions to the refresher so I may..." he looks down at his dripping robes. "attempt to not ruin your flooring?" 

Satine does allow a small smile and gives him verbal directions to the guest fresher. As soon as the Jedi has disappeared, Bo smacks the crook of Satine's arm. 

"Really, Satine?"

"What?" 

"A _Jetti_? Guarding a Mandalorian?" Bo scoffs. "Can you not defend yourself?" 

Satine hadn't exactly gotten around to explaining that her life was threatened two days ago. She didn't want to worry Bo or her father when her sister inevitably returns to Mandalore. She has things handled on this front, Jedi included. 

Surprisingly, Nel speaks up. "We haven't had conflict with the Jedi in centuries..." 

"Thank you!" 

"...but," he continues. Satine's hopes dwindle. "Do you really need that kind of protection? I'm sure Lady Bo-Katan and I are more than capable of providing you aid while we are on Coruscant."

"So that is what you are here for? To protect me?" 

Bo and Nel look at one another, a nonverbal conversation pursuing between them. Their behavior catches her off guard. Nel being of Clan Vizla, no matter how far removed from the core family, is strange. Clan Vizla is predominantly against the pacifist movement that Clan Kryze is aiming to eventually foster in the New Mandalore. It certainly is a surprise, but thus far Nel has proven himself to be quite placid, lacking the usual fiery temper characteristic of Vizla members. _Maybe he is one of the few who have sided against their clan. Especially if he is a foundling, as it appears he may be._

"We were sent here to check on you," Bo says, more deflated now. "I haven't seen you in years, sister." 

Satine swallows hard. "Yes, and I am glad you are here. I have missed you." 

Eventually, Obi-Wan returns from the refresher slightly less damp than he was when he arrived. Satine invites him to sit with them, which he seems uncomfortable with, but complies. He sits in one of the chairs stiffly, his gaze switching between scanning the large window of the living room, to the holonet playing the daily headlines, to examining all the occupants of the room. All have fallen into afternoon activities. Satine reviews some papers she has been sent on recent trade route shifts. Nel sits across from her with his attention on his datapad. 

Bo has chosen a less quiet activity. The occasional creak or squeak fills the room as she meticulously cleans her blaster. Satine can see her shooting mental daggers at the unsuspecting Jedi. Obi-Wan may not be her favorite person, but _Bo_ has no reason for her hostility. Satine wonders what she has against him. Maybe it's just instincts. Besides the formal manners, the Jedi is quite reserved. He hasn't engaged much in their infrequent conversation despite being around the same age as the rest of them. She finds it a little rude for him to be sitting here just staring out the window. 

Then again, he believes his duties here are to just be a bodyguard. His duties _are_ to just watch her. She shakes her head. _Why am I so preoccupied with this? I don't care how he spends his time so long as I don't find myself unconscious in the hull of a ship._

"Satine," Bo says, standing and holstering her blaster. "Care for a spar?" 

She raises an eyebrow. "A spar?" 

"I assume you have been keeping up with your defense exercises?" 

_No_. 

"Of course, but is now really the time?" 

Bo glances at the Jedi and then back at Satine. " _Oya_ ," she challenges. Nel chuckles, which makes Satine's cheeks feel warm. _If only I had meetings today_ , she thinks. If Satine had meetings she would be dressed in her formal wear. If she were dressed in her formal wear, she would have a valid excuse to not get her ass kicked by her younger sister. Unfortunately, she is in her casual clothes-- a pair of pants that are quite stretchy and a comfortable tunic. 

Satine stands, and Bo grins, stripping off her pieces of beskar down to her under-layer of a thermal shirt and gray leggings. She pushes back the caff table, and Nel pulls the couch back to make additional room. 

Satine walks to she is facing her sister, who already has begun to bounce between the balls of her feet. Satine can already imagine the speed at which she will be flung on her back. She looks over at Obi-Wan, who has pulled his legs up against his chest and is watching with sudden interest. His eyes meet hers and he raises an eyebrow. She doesn't justify his judgment with a reaction. 

"Been a long time since we have sparred." 

Satine matches the ready position, bending her knees to get lower and ready to react. She raises her hands to protect her abdomen. "Been a long time since _you_ sparred me and I defended myself." 

"Always the pacifist," Bo chuckles, taking a step forward. Satine's heart pounds in her chest, but she concentrates on watching Bo's body position. Her sister is notorious for attacking hard and quick, but her choice of placement is usually limited to where it will be most effective. Satine has been her punching bag enough to keep up. 

Just as she anticipated, Bo shifts to the left, indicating she will aim for Satine's side. As the side of Bo's hand slashes out with speedy precision Satine blocks with her forearms. She is invigorated with the energy that her instincts have sustained over the years. Maybe she won't lose so badly!

However, her tiny victory is short-lived. The first thing Satine realizes is Bo is much stronger than years ago. Though she blocked the hit, it did its duty of spreading a wave of pain through the entire right side of her upper body. The second thing she realizes is her sister has progressed. The first strike was only a distraction from the second-- her foot swinging around and striking Satine just under her arm. She staggers to the side, unbalanced, and is met with a quick succession of the third move-- a knee driving upward toward her stomach. 

She manages to see this one coming and grabs Bo's leg, twisting it so she is thrown to the side. Bo spins around, back on her feet. 

"Your kickboxing needs practice." 

"I've found blaster proficiency is more useful."

Bo lashes out with her foot again, landing a blow just above Satine's knee. 

"How's that blaster working for you now?" 

Satine grunts, managing to strike Bo with her elbow. 

They spar until Satine has been thrown to her knees and she holds a hand up to yield. Bo's arm hovers in the air, her fist looking ready to strike but she holds back at the white flag. Satine can't help but feel her sister is disappointed to not end the fight with a knockout. 

On Satine's part, she feels satisfied. She held up against her sister for longer than she expected. Bo has always been the fighter, and her, the leader. 

There's clapping, and Satine looks over to see Nel applauding the performance. Bo helps Satine up, giving her a good view of the Jedi. She'd nearly forgotten his presence he's been so quiet. He watches them with interest, his eyes locking with hers as she stands. Bo claps a hand on Satine's shoulder, facing the Jedi. 

"It's refreshing to get the blood flowing, is it not? Just like old times." Bo is talking to Satine but looking at the padawan. Even so, Obi-Wan still looks at Satine. 

"It is a change of pace, I suppose," Satine answers, sensing strange energy between the two.

"I hear the _Jetti_ are formidable opponents, would you join us?" Bo says to Obi-Wan. The Jedi finally looks at Bo, giving her an emotionless once over that seems to succeed in unsettling her. 

"You can only have two motives, Lady Bo-Katan, and I would interfere with either." 

Bo nudges Satine, resorting to mocking the Jedi since he seems unaffected by challenges. "What _can_ he mean?"

"Our surest way of disappointing him would be to ask him nothing about it," Satine answers, feeling Obi-Wan looking at her once again. She feels warm again with his eyes on her, but she attributes it to residual exertion of their spar. 

Obi-Wan pauses a moment, glancing out the window like he's choosing his words carefully before looking back at them. "Either you solely aim to catch Lady Satine up on her hand-to-hand, or you are putting on a show in an attempt to intimidate me. If the first, I would only get in your way. If the second..." he smirks, "I can better admire the depth of your melee expertise from here." 

Satine can't help but chuckle, feeling Bo stiffen slightly at the quip. Her sister releases Satine's shoulder and picks up her beskar chest plate to put it back on, muttering an expletive in Mando'a. Something offensive about space wizards... she tries not to laugh as she is left standing in front of the Jedi. His gaze is penetrating like he is waiting for her to join in on the fun. Satine decides to oblige, finally given the space to have a run at him.

"Is it not against the Jedi Code to be proud?" 

"I would not consider it _pride_ more than quick-wit, Lady Satine." 

"Would you consider pride a fault or virtue?" 

"I can't say." 

"Because it seems we're doing our best to find a fault in you." 

Obi-Wan's chin tilts up, his neutral expression finally breaking. It isn't angry as she would have expected, no. It's serene. "The Jedi Code teaches us to be servants of those we serve. Selfless and ready to protect. In order to be that way, we must be sure of ourselves and our abilities. Whether it comes across as pride or vanity, that is not the intention. I couldn't care less whether or not you succeed in finding fault if at the end of the day I do my duty." 

Satine's eyebrows raise. She's impressed but unwilling to let him know that. "Oh, dear, I'm afraid I cannot tease you about that. Duty is held in high regard to my people as well. A shame, for I dearly love to laugh." 

Obi-Wan's head cocks to the side, a small smile on his own lips as Satine finally breaks the eye contact. She turns, not caring that Bo and Nel are staring with judgemental expressions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jetti -- Mando'a term for Jedi  
> Oya -- Mando'a for "let's hunt! and let's roll" (I looked forever for Mando'a sparring customs but couldn't find them... if anyone has any idea please let me know lol) 
> 
> Some dialogue borrowed from Pride and Prejudice (some of my favorite exchanges!) 
> 
> Thanks for reading! We are nearing the end of the set-up phase, and I'm excited to get more into more content. Next chapters may or may not include Obi-Wan trying his hand at ballroom dancing... stay tuned!


	3. Care to Dance?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quinlan Vos has a good Obi-Wan bullshit-meter. Satine continues her pattern of not having fun at balls. Obi-Wan is trying his best.

Obi-Wan sits on the bench of the training room, pouring the cool contents of his canteen down his throat. Sweat is pouring down his back from nearly twenty minutes of sustained saber practice. Somehow Quinlan Vos, his sparring partner, is still swinging his lightsaber around in various loose katas. Obi-Wan is pretty sure his energy is endless. 

"You could at least _act_ like you are tired," Obi-Wan huffs, setting down the canteen. 

"Against the Jedi Code, lying is," Quin mocks Master Yoda in a surprisingly accurate voice. Obi-Wan chuckles, standing and spinning his saber around with a loose wrist to prepare to re-engage. 

"What form are you practicing?" Quin asks, knowingly eyeing the opening stance of Ataru. "Or should I say, _supposed to be_ practicing?" 

"I didn't realize I was sparring with Qui-Gon." 

Quin snorts. "C'mon Obi, I'll do Makashi." 

"You suck at form two," Obi-Wan deadpans.

"Exactly, maybe you'll have a chance." 

Begrugedly, he shifts his stance to Soresu. The stance feels unnatural after practicing Ataru so vigorously-- mostly because Qui-Gon has just begun training him in more advanced forms. He is set on mastering Ataru to catch up to his peers like Quinlan who are already experimenting with other forms. His Kiffar friend has practically mastered Ataru himself but has been working on his Djem So the last couple of weeks. 

Quin tips his saber down in the Makashi opening salute. It looks out of place, a formal duel beginning done by the unconventional and infamously roguish Jedi. Quinlan immediately steps forward with less grace than is supposed to be employed with this form, but it holds power all the same. Obi-Wan accepts his defensive position and catches the saber on his own, satisfied with the ease it blocks the blade. 

Quinlan is, of course, unrelenting. He twirls, quickly performing a counter move that unblocks his saber and goes for another calculated hit. The movements remind Obi-Wan of the sparring session he witnessed while with Lady Satine, and a smile appears unwillingly on his face.

"What's that stupid look on your face?" Quin prods when they lock their blades once more. The green and blue blades light up either side of his friend's face, making his eyebrow wiggle more menacing than he meant it to be.

"Not sure what you're referring to." Obi-Wan decides to throw in some acrobatics, using the Force to launch him to the other side of Quin as he is going into a backswing. It adequately catches him off guard, making him go on the defense for a moment while Obi-Wan integrates a few more aggressive attacks. 

They get into a stalemate, stalking one another from a few meters apart. "Either my chest is sending you into a conniption-- which, understandable, I have been working out." Obi-Wan glances down at his friend's bare chest, rolling his eyes. Or... it's something up there," he gestures his lightsaber at Obi-Wan's head. 

"The first, _obviously_." Quin has always been known for being difficult to clothe. Obi-Wan can still remember the way their creché master's eyes nearly popped out of her head when she walked into him cutting the sleeves off his tunic-- unsuccessfully, as he stole a practice saber from the training room to do the job and failed to realize it was in training mode. It had the cutting ability of a flashlight. Quin claims he feels restricted in clothing and prefers to wear as little as possible. Obi-Wan has gotten used to it at this point, so Quin's half-clothed state didn't even register in his mind.

"I knew it." 

They fall back into step. Quin's Makashi is beginning to look suspiciously like Ataru with every passing second, and Obi-Wan is aching to return to it as well. Remaining on defense isn't nearly as fun as getting to attack. The moment he gains the upper hand, he switches back to the more aggressive form, managing to draw a rare yield from Quin. _Now_ he looks tired. 

"I'll get you next time, Obi," Quin says as Obi-Wan extends his hand to help up his friend. Quinlan walks across the training room and unties his locks from the bun he had them strapped in. They fall in neat heaps to his shoulders. "Though I still am curious, what're you thinking about?" 

"It was really nothing. Your horrible Magashi form just reminded me of something amusing." 

Obi-Wan ties his tunic and slips on his outer robe. Quin has already thrown on a shirt and haphazardly secured his own robes when he appears at his side. 

"What kind of amusing something?" 

"Is it any of your business?" 

"Things that make you look like a youngling with a crush are _always_ my business, Obi my boy." 

"Youngling with a-- you're crazy, Quin." Obi-Wan throws his bag over his shoulder but Quin trails closely behind him. 

"I'll ask Bant." 

"Go ahead," Obi-Wan says. He hasn't really told anyone about his current mission... he isn't sure why he is keeping it fairly guarded. He has a... feeling. Obi-Wan isn't sure if it's a good or bad feeling, but the Force is different as of late and he is still trying to figure out why.

"Interesting," Quin makes a point of rubbing his chin as though he has facial hair to stroke. "You didn't even tell _Bant_ , then? Must be not a some _thing_ , but a some _one_." 

Obi-Wan makes the horrible mistake of stopping in the middle of the hall. Quin's eyes grow wide, making his yellow facial tattoo upturn like a giant smile. He is fairly sure the hyper Kiffar may start throwing a party. 

"Obi, you dirty dewback."

"Quin, please--"

"You sneaky bastard. _Who_?" 

He sighs. He hasn't even had the chance to figure out for himself what the hell is going on with him, but what Obi-Wan does know is that he left Lady Satine's home with a fluttering in his stomach. Why? He has no idea. The entire afternoon was practically a nightmare. He was stuck in a room with three Mandalorian teenagers who made making him as uncomfortable as possible a game. The only words Lady Satine and him exchanged were laced with sarcasm and a bit of underlying displeasure with one another, so why he found himself captivated is well beyond him. 

"It's-- Well I have-- There's..." 

Obi-Wan's sputtering just makes Quin laugh, slapping him on the shoulder. 

"Don't worry, I'll keep the secret that you have the hots for someone unspecified so long as you promise to tell me about it when you figure out how to speak again." 

"It's not the _hots..._ Blast it, nevermind," he throws his hands up in defeat and they continue back toward their respective rooms. He can feel his cheeks flush red and he just hopes any passerby assumes from Quin's disheveled appearance it's from a recent saber training encounter. 

He steps into the shared apartment of him and Qui-Gon, finding his Master sitting in the living room, strolling lazily through a datapad. Qui-Gon glances up. "Obi-Wan. How was sparring?" 

Obi-Wan drops his bag and goes straight to the kitchen to prepare himself a cup of tea. "Good, Master. I beat Padawan Vos." 

A hum of approval makes Obi-Wan relax, a wave of happiness blossoming through him. He drops tea bags into two mugs and carries one to Qui-Gon. 

"Thank you, padawan."

Obi-Wan takes a seat across from Master Jinn, watching as the water slowly darkens with every passing moment. "Any word from Lady Satine today?" This time, Qui-Gon puts down his datapad and looks up with a look that Obi-Wan often equates with _trouble_. "Master, you know I hate that look."

"What _look_ are you referring to?" 

"You know the one."

"I have no idea what you could be talking about." He reaches down and picks up his mug, taking a sip despite it definitely not being done steeping. _Dramatic bastard,_ Obi-Wan thinks, shaking his head. "I did hear from her this morning, actually." 

A pause. For dramatic effect, it seems. Obi-Wan has a _very_ strong feeling he is not going to like this. "It appears there is a fundraiser tonight that Lady Satine is to attend. We agreed it would draw too much attention for me to attend, as the invitees of the party are young politicians and leaders and I am not as young as I once was... But you--"

" _Master_ don't tell me I have to go to another party." 

"But _you_ won't stand out among your peer group."

Obi-Wan sighs. 

"Oh, and one more thing," Qui-Gon says, a sly smile crossing his lips. Okay, Obi-Wan has a _really_ bad feeling now.

* * *

The only thing that Satine can think about is how strange it all is. Strange that she is sitting here with her sister, cousin, and a Vizla boy waiting to leave for a fundraiser. Strange to see the accents on Nel's formalwear matching her gown. 

They'd been spending a lot of time together the last few days. Nel is not as quiet as she initially thought him to be, and has really grown to be a pleasant companion.

He was showing her holos from Mandalore before the war. They were reveling in the good old days when suddenly Nel's eyes caught hers, and Satine realized they were sitting quite close. Close enough that his leg pressed against hers and one of his arms had found its way across the couch behind her. 

Her heart raced, and she ever so slightly shifted her leg away to reduce the tension. And then his hand slid from the couch to her shoulder and she was sure she stopped breathing. 

"The fundraiser," Nel said, his eyes watching her carefully. "Could I have the honor of being your date?" 

She didn't think. How could she think with a man as attractive as Nel sitting so close? She just nodded, and he cocked his head to the side. _He's waiting for a real answer,_ she realizes, and she clears her throat. "Yes, yes that would be lovely, Nel." 

Then Bo-Katan came in, and though Nel didn't seem concerned with their position, Satine sprang back, severing any contact between them. 

And now she sits next to Nel, his arm across the back of the couch behind her, and his accents the same blue-green color as her gown. 

Bo sits across from them, outfitted in one of Satine's old dresses. It's an emerald green dress, structured through the torso and with a lightweight skirt and long billowing sleeves. She knew Bo would like it because it was a birthday gift from her father-- meaning the structured top is really a beskar chest plate, not battle-grade but enough to provide adequate protection. Leave it to Mandalore to figure out how to make elegant dresses with beskar. Satine's own gown is a newer model, instead of a chest plate the material is woven with beskar fibers. Much more flexible and can still stop a blaster shot. It's has a similar silhouette to Bo's A-line dress, but her sleeves are cinched at the wrists rather than hanging open. 

Kira walks in, dressed up in her own beskar plated dress of a more simple design. "I believe the Jedi is on his way up," she says, causing Bo to roll her eyes. 

"I don't understand why _he_ has to come." 

"The Chancellor was specific. I go anywhere public, I must bring a Jedi." 

"I didn't realize the throne of Mandalore bowed to the Chancellor of the Republic," Bo says spitefully. 

Satine lets out a frustrated huff. It's been like this all week. Things between them are fine and then suddenly she is reminded of Bo's short circuit. Anything involving the Republic, political tasks, and the Jedi seem to set her off. Satine feels like she's been walking on eggshells ever since she came. 

"It's called diplomacy, sister. I meet the requests of the Chancellor and a good relationship is achieved that may be helpful one day. You must trust me. I know more about this than you." 

The door opens and in walks Obi-Wan. Satine sees him and nearly double takes in surprise. 

Gone are his ratty Jedi robes. Instead, he wears a dark blue formal tunic with a long dark gray outer piece that hangs down to his knees. His blue pants tuck into a pair of shined black boots. Even his hair seems to have been contained. His messy spikes now look soft and neat. The only indication that a Jedi still stands before her is the tiny braid that peeks out from behind his ear, though it is tucked away, that horrible ponytail, and the glimpse of his lightsaber strapped to a black leather belt, complete with silver accents. It's simple, modest, yet it flatters him.

Obi-Wan bows. "Good evening, Lady Satine of House Kryze, Lady Bo-Katan of House Kryze, Nel Raiko of House Vizla, and Kira Kryze of Clan Kryze," he says fluidly. Satine suspects he rehearsed it, though it rolls off his tongue effortlessly.

"Padawan Kenobi," she replies, bowing. 

"Great, now we can leave," Bo says, standing and pushing past Obi-Wan. Satine shoots him an apologetic look, and Nel comes to her side. 

"Ready?" he says, extending his arm out. Satine slips her arm in the crook of his elbow. When she looks up at the Jedi she realizes he looks quite uncomfortable, his eyes trained on her arm in Nel's. The realization dawns on her. _He thought_ we _were going together?_ She thinks back on her conversation with Obi-Wan's master. Yes, she did word it as him _accompanying_ her... 

"Padawan Kenobi, I thought you could be Kira's date for tonight. So you two could collaborate." 

She glances at Kira who nods and walks next to the Jedi.

"Yes, Lady Satine, I think that is a splendid plan." He turns, mirroring Nel and holding out his arm for Kira. Satine holds back a laugh as Kira looks surprised by this gesture, but takes it nonetheless. Coincidentally, Kira's gray dress goes well with Obi-Wan's own attire. 

"This should be interesting," Nel whispers as they head toward the lift. 

"Oh, undoubtedly." 

They arrive at the fundraiser in higher spirits than they left. To Satine's surprise, Obi-Wan was quite attentive to her cousin Kira. The entire ride he chatted with her, not about their duty as she would have expected, but just asking questions and getting to know her. From overhearing their conversation, Satine learned that Obi-Wan is also eighteen years old (but nearly nineteen), he is from Stewjon originally but considers Coruscant and the Jedi temple his home, and he and Master Jinn have been partners for five years now. How could this be the same standoffish boy she's encountered many times in the last few weeks? 

With Nel and Bo engaged in their own conversation about who-knows-what, Satine began to stew. She isn't quite sure why her mood changed, but something about being treated rudely by the Jedi when he obviously is more than capable of being civil-- even pleasant!-- doesn't sit right with her. 

Nel seems to notice the shift, pressing a hand into the center of her back. "You alright?" 

"Of course," she says, not bothering to lessen the sharpness in her tone. Nel's arm drops. Immediate regret fills her. She reaches up and gingerly places her fingers near the crook of his elbow. He wings it out so she can slip her arm through. "Apologies. The last time I was at a large event my life was endangered." 

Nel nods. She told finally him about the occurrence the day earlier. "Not to worry. I'm sure your shadows won't allow anything to happen to you," he says, glancing back at Obi-Wan and Kira. Nel leans in, his lips slightly grazing her ear. "Nor will I." 

A shiver runs down her spine, followed by a blush she hopes her makeup covers. 

The fundraiser is much smaller than the Senator Ball, though still as grandiose. It is a special event that Satine has genuinely enjoyed the last few years because it only invites young politicians. They raise funds for causes that affect younger generations and give the spotlight to up and coming movements. It is quite progressive and makes Satine feel at home with like-minded individuals. The banquet hall is beautiful decorated with lights and holos advertising the various causes that are being supported. One end contains gambling games where all the proceeds go to the winner's choice. The other end is a giant dance floor that is already occupied with dozens of occupants. The border is lined with various information booths with gifts and incentives to donate. She already has a few causes she is eager to learn more about. 

"I think I will visit the booths first," Satine says. Nel looks down at her, his handsome face cool and neutral. 

"I told Bo I would go with her to play a few rounds of sabacc. I am considered the best player among my friends." 

Disappointment fills Satine. "But how will you know what cause you want to donate to if you do not learn about them?" 

Nel shrugs. "Well, whoever you want to donate to, I will oblige." 

She sighs. She has half a mind to directly ask him to stay with her, but she meets the eyes of Bo, who approaches them. 

"I found a table where the players are quite inexperienced," Bo says with a grin. Nel detaches himself from Satine, stopping to give her a smile. His hand reaches up and grazes her cheek. 

"Only for a little bit. I very much would like to have a dance with you once we get the fundraiser portion of the night out of the way." 

Her chest flutters with excitement... or nervousness? dread? She isn't sure. 

"Yes, I look forward to that." 

He disappears into the crowd. 

Satine sighs, turning to find Obi-Wan and Kira watching. She swears she sees the Jedi raise an eyebrow in the direction of Nel. Kira leaves Obi-Wan's side and joins her. "Shall we, cousin?" 

They walk from booth to booth, hearing the pitches of the representatives. Once again, Obi-Wan surprises her. He follows closely behind, seemingly interested in the causes and asking a few questions between the sessions. His interest is genuine, she can tell, but his knowledge of politics seems to be lacking. She watches the way his face seems to fall when she starts talking about political procedures. He seems more interested in the idea of change rather than the process, which disappoints her. Ideas are great, but there is much that needs to be done to insight true action. 

By the end of their circuit, they are spit out near the casino area. Satine looks over to see Nel and Bo still huddled around a sabacc table, piles of chips in front of them. She stares at him, hoping to catch his attention, but he doesn't look up. 

"Lady Satine," she turns to see Obi-Wan with his hand out. "Would you care to dance?" 

"I would," she says without hesitation. Her eyes go wide and Obi-Wan bows and turns to find a space on the dance floor. Satine leans back so she is close to Kira. 

"Did I just agree to dance with Obi-Wan Kenobi?" 

Kira chuckles. "I daresay you find him amiable, Satine." 

"Which would be most inconvenient since I have sworn to loathe him for all eternity." 

Kira places a hand on the back of Satine's back and gives her a gentle push forward. She sighs, catching up with Obi-Wan. 

The music shifts and Satine recognizes the characteristic chords of the _Sarabande_ , an Alderaanian partner dance. For a moment she panics that Obi-Wan is not knowledgable of this, but he lines up across from her, his stance correct for the dance. 

The chords pick up, indicating the first step. Obi-Wan steps toward her, holding his hands out for her to take. She grabs them softly, and he pulls her gently toward him before they separate in half-steps. 

"You know this dance," she says with a hint of surprise peeking through. 

"Of course, I wouldn't have asked you to dance if I was to make a fool of myself." 

She holds back a smile. They meet once again, his hand taking hers and they stand parallel to one another. 

"Your clothes are... different than what I was expecting."

He glances down, suddenly seeming a little insecure. "Well, I told Master Jinn it wouldn't be appropriate to wear my robes... even my good ones as it would make me stand out. I borrowed these from another StewJoni padawan." 

"So they are traditional of your home planet?" 

"Yes, I suppose." 

"They are nice." 

He smiles, his youth suddenly returning to him. Satine hadn't realized until this moment, but what was striking her as different about Obi-Wan was how much larger he looked in these clothes. Broader. Like a young man rather than a boy in oversized robes. The attention that she usually gave to his raggedy clothes was suddenly focused on the bright blue of his eyes and the dimples that appeared in his cheeks when he smiled. _I daresay you find him amiable, Satine._ Satine pushes back that comment, forcing it to not echo in her mind as it has been since they began this dance. 

She glances toward the cards table and sees Nel still not paying any attention. Her mood dips. Obi-Wan spins her, allowing the quiet to fall over them.

"It is your turn to say something, Padawan Kenobi. I commented on your dancing. Now you ought to remark on the party, or the number of couples who obviously have no idea what they are doing." she says, her eyes watching two Mid-rim senators struggling to keep in step. 

"Do you talk as a rule while dancing?"' His tone is light, but it jabs at her efforts to attempt to be civil with the Jedi. As he had been with Kira all night. 

"No, no. I prefer to be distant and taciturn. It makes it all the more enjoyable, don't you think?" 

Obi-Wan is quiet for a moment. She feels his grip on her hand slightly stiffen. The air around them suddenly changes. She can feel the tension build, causing her cheeks to feel warm.

"Then I shall oblige, Lady Satine. I must say, I am curious. Nel Raiko is your date, is he not?" 

They reach the part of the dance where she turns, so her back is to Obi-Wan, relieving her of his sudden question. She swallows hard, her heart beating rapidly in her chest as they meet again. 

"He is a childhood friend and has been quite supportive and lovely as of late. So yes, he is my date this evening." 

"I see he is being especially _supportive_ tonight." 

They turn so they are parallel once again and Satine is relieved he can't see the tightness in her lips. It is a low blow. A valid observation, but not one that he has any right to comment on. 

"To use one's skill in sabacc to support a good cause is an excellent way of support, I would think. Not that you would know, but charity comes in many forms."

"Not that I would-- why would you say such a thing?" he says, his calm demeanor giving way to an emotion that Satine cannot identify. 

"I am just making out your character, Padawan Kenobi." 

"And what have you discovered?"

"Very little." They fall silent. His face is hardened and his jaw set in a way that makes him look much older than he is. Much more imposing. They are standing, staring at one another while the music progresses, trailing toward the end of the song. Thankfully the final cord is played. Both of them bow to one another. "I have observed such different sides of you in such a short time. It puzzles me as to how you can genuinely be all of them." 

The rising and falling of his chest slow as she sees in real-time him calming his emotions. He looks at her with apathy, which is more jarring than any anger he could have displayed. "I hope to give you more clarity in the future then." 

He turns, leaving Satine alone in the middle of the dance floor. 

A tap on her shoulder. She turns to see Nel, his eyes trained on Obi-Wan pushing through the crowd. 

"Are you okay?" he asks, finally looking down at her. "It looked pretty... tense over here." 

She lets out a breath, hiding her shaking hands behind her back. _So he had been watching._ She can see his deep frown as he tracks the Jedi with his eyes, even still. _Is he... jealous?_ The thought nearly makes her laugh. Nothing in the world could make her want Obi-Wan Kenobi. He has _nothing_ to be jealous of. 

"Everything is perfect, now that you are here to dance with me," she says, holding out her hand. Nel's frown becomes a small smile and he takes her hand in his. 

* * *

Who would Obi-Wan run into as soon as he returned to the Jedi Temple than Quin? _Of course._ Even worse, his other friends Bant Eerin and Garen Muln sit in the windowsill with him. As soon as Quin sees him, he jumps up, his eyes wide. _Right. I'm still dressed like a blasted politician._

"Obi, where the hell did _you_ just come from? Out seeing a certain _someone?_ " Quin says. This is exactly the attention Obi-Wan is not in the mood for at this moment. 

"Nowhere and no one," he says coldly, just wanting to go hide in his room and meditate. He tries to push past Quin, but he grabs Obi-Wan by the bicep, his playful demeanor suddenly shifted to seriousness. Even Bant and Garen have gotten to their feet, staring at him with wide eyes.

"What's wrong?" 

He sighs, pulling his arm out of Quin's grasp. "I need... I need to meditate, Quinlan." He can't bring himself to look at Bant or Garen. 

The use of his full name seems to catch him off guard enough that he releases him. Obi-Wan makes a mental note to apologize to him and the others later, but for now, he has two things on his mind: getting these damned clothes off and sinking into meditation so deep it rivals Master Yoda. 

He takes off down the hall, leaving Quin, Bant, and Garen speechless and standing in the middle of the passage. 

As soon as he gets in his apartment, Obi-Wan starts pulling off pieces of his outfit. How long did he spend tracking down that senior padawan to borrow these clothes? To look nice? To make his impact less obvious for Lady Satine's sake? He marches into his room, throwing them in the direction of his hamper. Now standing in just a plain shirt and his undergarments, he takes a deep breath, letting the Force surround him. He summons good feelings, using them to help push out the bad ones. 

"Obi-Wan?" he distantly hears his name, but he ignores it for now as he sinks into a meditative pose on the floor.

_It is not the Jedi way to be angry. To be affected in such a way. I release these negative sentiments to the Force._

_It is not the Jedi way to be frustrated. To let the words of others, especially of those I have sworn to protect, to make me bitter. I release these negative sentiments to the Force._

The weight on his shoulders lessens and he relaxes. 

_It is not the Jedi way to take my emotions out on my friends. I shall explain my poor mood to them and apologize. I release these negative sentiments to the Force._

Maybe he will go see them tonight. They are likely still sitting out there discussing his strange behavior. 

_It is not the Jedi way..._ he swallows hard. _It is not the Jedi way to... you know. I release these sentiments to the Force._


	4. A Mission is a Mission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nel tries to make a move. Obi-Wan makes amends with his friends. Satine can't seem to find someone she doesn't have a current conflict with.

"Everything is perfect, now that you are here to dance with me," Satine says to Nel, holding out her hand for him to take. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see the young Jedi make his way to the edge of the crowd. As he turns to look back in her direction, she feels an immediate pang of regret. Her words had been harsh-- she knew that from the moment they slipped past her lips but in the heat of the moment that had been her intention. There is something about that boy that just... winds her up. 

But no matter. She can deal with him later. Satine looks back at Nel, who has smiles widely and gently takes her hand. As he pulls her closer to his chest to dance, Satine tries to relax, putting out the last few minutes of the spitfire with the Jedi out of her mind... or trying at least. 

She concentrates on the feeling of his hand spread across the small of her back. Or those damned gorgeous gray eyes watching her attentively as they sway together... but then she can see a different set of blue eyes in her mind, looking at her like she'd shot him in the stomach. Concentrating on being held in the arms of a boy she has come to like a fair amount is apparently harder than Satine expected.

"I won a few hundred credits," Nel says. "Whoever you want to donate them to, I will designate." 

"Don't you want to hear about the various causes? They were quite interesting and then you can pick the one you like best." 

Nel shrugs. "Politics aren't exactly in my area of interest." 

_They weren't in Obi-Wan's either but he at least tried to engage._

Satine cringes internally. _Forget the damn Jedi!_ She nods at Nel, giving her best understanding look.

"You'd be surprised how much politics are involved in war and battle, whether you notice it or not. Even the greatest warriors must also be diplomats." 

"I suppose," he says, his demeanor suggesting that he has no interest in her further explaining this concept. "You know, Satine, you have really grown up. I believe the last time I saw you, Bo was attempting to push you into the nearest puddle she could find." 

Satine smiles softly. "Indeed, my sister has always been the more... physical one in our household. I'm surprised you remember that. We were so young." 

There was a time when there was a glimpse of peace. The children of all clans went to school together, which is where the faint memories of a little curly-headed boy reside in Satine's mind. She was probably seven or eight at the time, and she and Nel were both avid readers. Though their interactions were few and far between, she did remember the boy that often sat near her in the library. Occasionally they even traded book recommendations. 

Satine can still see that nine-year-old Nel in the man that now dances slowly with her. While his hair is cut shorter and his face has lost much of the roundness of youth, he still has this goofy side-smile that he would shoot her whenever they locked eyes. Now is no different. 

"I remember only the important parts of my youth," he gazes down at her with the aforementioned half-smile. "Satine, I must admit, I had a large crush on you." 

"Oh," she says before she can think of something-- _anything_ more sophisticated to say. "I mean-- that is..." she trails off, tipping her head forward to rest against his shoulder. "Forgive me, you have caught me off guard." she picks her head up again. He is looking at her humorously, waiting patiently for her to compose herself. "I... I had no idea." 

"It's funny how childhood crushes work," he chuckles. "We guard them so close when the logical thing would have been to just tell you and maybe... there would have been a chance." his eyes search her face, and Satine can feel her cheeks forming a deep blush. 

"Yes, maybe there would have," she echoes, her own eyes locked with his. Held so close, she can see the streaks of pale blue that underly his durasteel-colored irises. They focus on her carefully, like he's reading her face as though it were the page of a book. She can feel Nel's breath on her cheek-- _when did he get so close?_ \-- and then the hand that was previously resting on her back is suddenly brushing a strand of hair that had fallen against her temple, trailing down her neck behind her ear before cupping her cheek. 

Her chest feels like it might implode, but as the fog of her nerves clears, Satine realizes she is standing in the center of a _very public event_. Reality comes crashing back to her and as Nel leans in, she turns her head so his lips catch her cheek. She can feel him suck in a breath softly as his lips brush her cheekbone. His forehead tilts down, resting against her temple.

"Nel." Satine puts distance between them, though his hands remain where they are. His eyes are wide and he looks confused as she grabs the hand he had on her waist and places it back in the original dancing hold. "I am afraid this is not... the place." 

It's as though he hadn't considered maybe a room full of her political peers may not be the most appropriate place to attempt a moment of intimacy. Her blush shifts from giddiness to embarrassment as Nel drops the hand from her cheek. 

"It's funny, we are surrounded by couples. We hardly stand out." 

"That is not the point. I am _telling_ you I'd prefer to not."

"Apologies," he says, in a tone that nearly makes Satine cringe from how unapologetic it comes off. "I must have... misread some things." 

He draws away completely, and Satine stares at him, dumbfounded. "Misread-- no, you misunderstand, I am just..." 

Nel shrugs. While at this moment she misses that goofy half-smile she certainly does not miss the attitudes of nine-year-old boys that this boy a decade older is currently displaying. "No, please, I have overstepped," he raises his hands in mock surrender. " _Lady_ Kryze."

The formality burns. _Okay_ , _that's enough_. Satine sets her jaw, walking forward, and taking Nel's hand. He seems surprised by her choice, letting her lead him off the dance floor and to a doorway that leads to the refreshers. Satine duly notes the eyes of both the Jedi and Kira watching them.

In the passage, she releases his hand, taking a few more steps to put distance between them. "I don't need this from you, Nel." 

"Need what? To loosen up a little bit?" Nel takes a deep breath, lightening his tone as he looks at her with pleading eyes. "It's a _party,_ Satine. You used to not care about what other people thought of you. What happened to that girl?" He takes a step toward her. 

"The issue is not that I have _changed,_ it's that I hardly feel comfortable with having a moment that should be private in the center of a public event," Satine says, crossing her arms. "I don't see how we've jumped from me not letting you kiss me to you taking a jab at my character." 

"I didn't insult--" Nel's jaw sets as he trails off. "Listen. Do you know why I came here?" 

A deviation, but not an unwelcome one. "Well, I've been asking, and you and Bo seem to be keeping that particular detail quite guarded. So, no." 

"Mandalore is in trouble. Deep trouble and you are over here frolicking in the upper crest." 

"Frolicking!?" 

"What do you think this party is?' Nel takes another step toward her. "That fancy apartment you live in? Meanwhile, people are dying and where are you?" 

Satine stares at him, anger rising with every word. Her hands shift to her hips and with a low, even tone she says, "So that's what this all is about? To shame me for following the orders of the _Mand'alor_?" 

"It's not to shame--"

"Then what is this? Are your affections only a ruse to influence my judgment?" 

Suddenly it looks as though Nel is staring down the barrel of a blaster. All his cocky attitude has vanished and now he just seems... surprised. And yet, he says nothing in his defense. Satine sighs, turning her back to Nel.

"Satine, please," Nel's voice softens, "this not how I wanted this night to go. I just..." 

"You what?" 

She feels his hand on her shoulder, soft and cautious. Slowly he turns her around, all the frustration that previously hardened his features, now dissipated. "I did not come here with the goal of winning your favor, only to deliver the facts of the war. My feelings... they were a surprise I was not anticipating." His fingers reach up to drag along her cheek once again but she softly pushes them down, letting them loosely intertwine with her fingers. 

"I think... I just need some time to think." Nel's face falls, but she squeezes his hand. "This is not a rejection, Nel. Just... I need to think." She drops his hand and walks back toward the party, leaving him alone in the passage. 

As Satine opens the door, her eyes meet a familiar pair of blue eyes. Obi-Wan stands a few meters away leaning against a column. His expression is mostly blank, but a flicker of concern crosses his features that only makes her guilt over their earlier interaction grow. 

"Leave me alone, Jedi," she says, brushing past him. As she marches away to find Kira and her sister she can feel him watching her until she disappears into the crowd. 

* * *

Obi-Wan feels more refreshed come morning. After a lengthy meditation and a prodding conversation with Master Jinn over why he came home so heated, his head feels clear. Obi-Wan sets out to do the thing that still weighs him down-- apologizing to the friends he snapped at the night prior. 

Quinlan, Bant, and Garen are not difficult to find. It's the weekly rest day from classes, which they often spend playing cards in one of the gardens. Sure enough, he finds the trio sitting in a circle playing sabacc. As he approaches they all look up, their conversation waning. 

"Obi-Wan," Bant says, the same look of concern on her face that she displayed earlier. 

"Hello everyone," he sighs, standing awkwardly in front of them. "I was hoping to find you all and... apologize for acting like an ass last night." 

"Oh, Obi--" Bant begins, only to be interrupted by Quinlan.

"So what was it?" he asks, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow. And then, a smirk. "Or _who_?" 

Obi-Wan lets out a breath, as the tension breaks, and through the Force, he can feel his friends sending calm feelings of ease his way. Forgiveness. They know him well enough to guess there was a good reason for his moody behavior, and he is thankful to have such friends. He takes a seat between Garen and Quin, dodging a playful punch to the shoulder. 

"I had to go to a charity fundraiser last night," Obi-Wan sighs. "A solo mission." 

"And how many politicians did you have to charm?" Garen chuckles. Obi-Wan rolls his eyes. 

"None, but I had to _see_ far too many." 

They all laugh and Obi-Wan finally reveals the security detail he has been on-- an abridged version, but enough for them to understand his unfortunate partnership with a certain Mandalorian heiress.

"So you _were_ charming _one_ politician," Bant giggles. 

Obi-Wan can feel his cheeks grow a little red (which Quin undoubtedly notices and will tease him for later), but he shakes his head. "I don't think any level of sweet talk could convince this girl to not hate me. At least no verbal capabilities I possess." 

"You kidding? You're great at diplomacy stuff." 

Garen nods in agreement. "I don't know how you do it so easily." 

Obi-Wan isn't sure either, but he is aware of the phenomenon. Qui-Gon comments on it often--though his master is happy that he can throw Obi-Wan to the wolves when it comes to dealing with diplomatic issues. For whatever reason, people seem to trust Obi-Wan very quickly. 

_Except for Lady Satine, it seems._

" _So_ we were dancing, and I don't know where it went wrong, but I asked about her date who was ignoring her and she started accusing me of not being charitable." 

"Sounds like some dumb insult only politicians get offended by," Quin says.

Maybe so, but that nonsensical comment has been cutting deeper than he expected. He's been thinking about it constantly, trying to decode why it bothers him so, and why it was delivered with such malicious intent. 

"Right? So we did not exactly speak for the rest of the night until she disappeared with her date, re-emerged looking ready to murder someone, and then blew me off once again." 

"So that's why you were mad last night," Bant says. 

Obi-Wan sighs. "Mad... isn't the right word." 

"You seemed pretty mad," Quin agrees. 

"I was... worked up." 

"Mad." 

"Jedi don't get mad." 

Quin rolls his eyes. "That's bullshit. Jedi don't _stay_ mad. Everyone gets angry." 

"Okay _Master Vos_ ," Garen raises an eyebrow. "Since when are _you_ the voice of reason?" 

The padawans laugh. Obi-Wan apologizes once again and they affirm that they were more worried than offended. After falling into a few games of sabacc and making plans to go to Dex's later in the afternoon, Obi-Wan feels worlds better. He heads back to the apartment to change into street clothes. 

Qui-Gon is waiting, turning his full attention to Obi-Wan as soon as he enters, which is abnormal unless he has something to talk to him about. 

"Good afternoon Master." 

"Hello, Obi-Wan. With your friends?" 

He nods. Qui-Gon nods. The master presses his lips together. "I just spoke with Lady Kryze and her... security team." 

Obi-Wan can feel his anxiety rise at the very mention of her, which annoys him. Surely, it isn't anything about him. They had a quip, but nothing he could get in trouble for... right? He made sure to stay near the rest of the evening, and she made it home safely. He quells his nerves before Qui-Gon can comment on it. "What about?" 

"It seems they have denied further Jedi involvement in their case."

Obi-Wan blinks. "And the chancellor allowed this?" 

"The Chancellor hardly has any formal jurisdiction over Mandalore. Lady Kryze's compliance was merely out of respect." 

"But what of the attempts on her life?" 

The corner of Qui-Gon's lips twitches upward. "I thought you would be less disappointed by losing this assignment, padawan." 

Internally, he cringes. He is _not_ disappointed to never have to face Lady Satine again. In fact, it might be the highlight of his day. But his personal opinions of the young woman are quite separate from his Jedi duties. 

"A mission is a mission, Master." 

"And what do you feel?"

Obi-Wan bites on the inside of his lip. "I feel her danger has only just begun." 

Qui-Gon nods grimly. "I do agree, my padawan."

So it wasn't just him. For days now, Obi-Wan has felt like the Force is holding its breath. Every time he has seen, discussed or even thought about Lady Satine he has felt the unease engulf him. It's like a warning but muted, standing shaded like a dim light in thick fog. No matter what direction he runs he can't seem to find where the glow originates. It's frustrating, everpresent, and he thought he had more time to search. 

But no matter. His duty is done, and this shall be the last he sees of Lady Satine Kryze. 

And yet, Obi-Wan still has this strange pit in his stomach. It feels like the ache of disappointment, but of course, that can't be the case. _Only a general bad feeling._

* * *

Like many days ago, Satine, Bo, and Nel sit in the living room. Nel scrolls through a datapad, though Satine can feel his eyes more often on her than his reading. Bo polishes Nel's daggers. Though Satine has a few news articles open on her datapad, she stares out the window at the midday Corescanti traffic. From her window, she has a good view of the plaza below and she finds herself scanning through it absentmindedly. The midday crowd has begun, and various civilians, politicians, other sentients crowd the busy center. 

On more than one occasion she catches a blur of beige, and Satine's attention piques. Indeed, a few Jedi cross the plaza in their master-padawan pairs, wearing the bland baggy robes. None, however, strike familiarity even at a distance. No spiky auburn hair and lean yet broad figure. No inquisitive brows and bright blue eyes that are both kind and mysterious. 

She still feels bad. The more she thinks about it the more she realizes her words actually affected Obi-Wan. It is not in the nature of the Jedi to be affected strongly by... well anything. Something struck a nerve. 

"Satine?" 

Her head snaps around to find Bo and Nel staring at her. 

"Where is your head at?" Bo says, raising an eyebrow. 

"I'm sorry, what is it?" 

"You called off the wizards, correct?" 

Satine grimaces, turning back to the window to hide it from them. "Indeed." 

Master Jinn had been pleasant enough in the holovid, assuring her that they were still at her disposal should she still need them. His kindness was comforting to the awkwardness she felt in having to initiate the discussion, but it still has not put her at ease. 

Bo and Kira sat her down after the fundraiser. Convinced her the Jedi were just getting in the way rather than actually protecting her. Had she and the padawan not gotten in a spit that same night, maybe she would have pushed back more. 

Satine is tired. Tired of arguing with Bo, being stuck so far from home. Tired of violence in general. Bo, Kira, and Nel are more than capable of maintaining her safety, and she would much rather their company than of a boy she so vehemently dislikes. Though, as Satine continues to search the crowd, self-awareness threatens to make itself fully apparent. Somehow in the little time she has spent with the young Jedi, her opinions seem to have shifted. Though she _does_ dislike him, it is becoming clear that is far more rooted in principle than reality. 

As it turns out, denial is Satine's friend. These feelings _must_ be the result of guilt from her poor manners. They must. 

"There is no one better to protect you than fellow Mandalorians," Nel says, smiling at her. They still have not discussed their own blow-up from the previous night, though Satine does not feel nearly as bothered by the distance that has been put between them. Nel seems to have taken the approach of acting as though nothing has happened. He still maintains his flirty glances and lingering presence, though suddenly Satine finds herself less enthralled with these advances. 

"Of course," she replies, half-heartedly, as her attention shifts back to sifting through the crowd. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A shorter chapter today, but I expect chapter 5 to go a lot quicker since we are moving out of the context-building portion of this story and into some fun stuff :) I've gotten some lovely feedback so far, so thank you for sticking through the slow burn!


	5. I Must Return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan was hoping for a day off. Satine finds she is being lied to.

Rainy days on Coruscant are Obi-Wan's favorite. Though he is also fond of bright, sunny days when the light warms his skin and uplifts even the worst of moods, there is something comforting about the rainfall. He enjoys the evenness of it as it pangs against the transperisteel panes, rolling down in predictable manners. When it rains, Obi-Wan can be found in a meditation room connected to the Archives. It is not known by most and has the lovely feature of consisting of mostly windows. 

This is where he heads now, a stack of coursework tucked under his arm. While he was elated to wake up to the soft pitter-patter of precipitation, there is something nagging at him as he walks the halls. Obi-Wan stares at the rain, trying to deduce what could possibly be throwing him off. 

It is rain. Falling as gravity has deemed it to. But the more he stares the more he notices the rain has been thrown off-rhythm. The drops are not even in volume, which is giving a more chaotic sound to it all. As the Force moves through all things, the irregularity of the rain is making the Force seem just as off-balanced. Certainly not the tone he had hoped for, but perhaps the rainstorm will calm by the time he begins his studies. 

Obi-Wan reaches a main artery of the Temple, which is swarmed with younglings. He has to twist and dodge the eager initiates as they travel in clusters, not caring to walk in any sort of orderly fashion. It is usually annoying when he is trying to get places, but he finds it quite amusing at his leisure. Obi-Wan remembers being that small himself, attached at the hip to his creche-mates and not caring about any random padawan moving through the Temple. Sometimes he misses those days. The monotony and his constant contact with his best friends were soothing. Obi-Wan took it for granted, wanting to reach his apprenticeship without realizing the things he was losing. 

An initiate he recognizes from helping out with classes catches his eye, the humanoid boy flashing a toothy grin that seems to be missing a few parts. Obi-Wan smiles back, reaching down to ruffle the boy's hair as he passes, earning a squeal of delight. Obi-Wan chuckles, looking back at his pathing as he nears the entrance to the Archives. 

As though the galaxy could not let him have his pleasantries, the Force whispers in his ear to _look_. Obi-Wan stops. Turning around he looks across the sea of younglings that has begun to thin, only to see a young woman standing out among them. Lady Satine is the spitting image of how Obi-Wan felt weeks ago arriving at her residence. Hair and clothing sopping wet, giving her as undignified a look as a lady such as herself could possibly achieve in public. He swallows hard. He hasn't seen her in over a week. Since the fundraiser. Does it bring him a small kind of satisfaction to see her so disheveled? Maybe so. But at the same time, for her to be in the Temple cannot be a good sign.

While he may want to just turn around and go about his day, Obi-Wan knows he can hardly do such a thing. He walks toward her slowly, becoming more and more aware of the distress in her face as he draws closer. Red-rimmed eyes follow his movement with an expression that is far less combative than he has ever witnessed on her slender face. Her skin is pale, dark circles under her eyes pronounced. And then he is standing but a meter away, and he realizes she is trembling. 

"Lady Satine," he breathes, giving her a bow of respect. She hardly reacts. "Are you well?" He asks though it is very obvious she is not. 

She swallows hard, staring through him for a moment before focusing her gaze and looking him in the eye. "I'm afraid I must ask for your help." 

* * *

_One day earlier_

Satine sits quietly in her designated pod as the senate session progresses into its third hour. She sighs, wishing Bo or Kira or even Nel would have decided to attend with her. While usually, she shares her pod with senators of other nearby planets in the Mandalorian system, it seems the chancellor gave her special permission for a private seat due to her circumstances. His intentions are right, but quite frankly Satine is _bored_. 

The senate affairs of today are not of any concern to Satine. They address issues that Mandalore has no claim in, and none are even to be put to a vote anyway. Tomorrow will bring another long session of senators yelling at one another while Mas Amedda attempts to keep peace and Chancellor Valorum tries to push a swift vote. _Never dull in the senate chambers._

She scrolls through her datapad, reading some additional reports on Mandalore's status she requested from... less official sources. While Satine appreciates the data that Valorum has been so kind as to supply her with, they are mere numbers on a page. Like Nel said nearly a week ago, she is stuck in the bubble of Coruscant when she should be putting her time into figuring out how to end the civil war. 

The thought of Nel makes her sigh. Their relationship as of late has been distant ever since the fundraiser. She tried once to bring up the argument, but he elected to just apologize broadly instead of actually discussing the things that were said. The more Satine considers his words, the more she is disillusioned with the man. While an agreeable fellow in his looks and physique, Satine feels like his intellect is unstimulating. He refuses to humor any conversation of deeper topics, particularly when they have to do with emotions. While their romantic future appears to have hit a stalemate, he did a good job of reminding her of her duty to Mandalore that she admittedly has not been putting enough time into.

Senator Tal Merrik sent her field journals over an ultra-secure network. He has been a mentor to Satine over the years, hailing from her home planet of Kalevala and being one of the few to visit her whenever he was in Coruscant. He has been deeply involved in the fighting-- more than most senators would be willing to do-- and had good intel. 

She reads it carefully, taking in every horrifying detail. The cities that have been decimated. The death count on both sides. Clans are splintering, split between pacifism and tradition. It's the most honest account she has received thus far, and it pains her. _Who can win a battle of war versus peace? The side of peace must fight for peace using war, though that is the direct opposite of the end goal. How can an example be made of a peaceful Mandalore when it is achieved in violent ways?_ Satine realizes she is clutching the datapad hard enough that her knuckles are white. She relaxes, tuning back into the senate meeting to try and calm herself down. 

Thankfully, it seems the hearing is wrapping up. The chancellor has already descended and final announcements are being read. Satine looks down at her comlink to let Bo and Nel know that she is done, only to find a message waiting. 

_Went to grab food, be back in an hour -Nel._

She looks at the time received and groans. They won't be back for another forty-five minutes at least. "Deny Jedi security, Satine," she mocks to herself as she gathers her things. "We will be your security, Satine." Who was she kidding? Bo and Nel are good fighters, but battle is what they do best. Not security work. Even Kira is not made for the mundane duties of a bodyguard, but she is at least mature enough to handle it. 

By the time she exists her pod, the hallways have all but cleared. A storm is predicted to roll in at night, so there is much less lingering than usual. Satine walks through the quiet passages of the rotunda, heading toward the elevators. She continues reading Merrik's report as she walks, hoping it will make her walk slower and time go faster. 

> _I must tell you, Satine, the force of the New Mandalorians are wavering. The traditionalists have the advantage of their craft, and it is not an easy opposition to put up with in a peaceful manner. Especially with the tragic assassination of Duke Adonai Kryze-- to which I give my greatest sympathies in what must be your time of great grief-- I'm afraid we have reached a turning point in this fight and the New Mandalorians are not on the winning side of it..._

Satine stops, staring at the final sentence. She reads it through once, and then again. 

_The tragic assassination of Duke Adonai Kryze._

_Time of great grief._

_I give my greatest sympathies._

The next thing she knows Satine is grabbing onto the wall for stability, ragged breaths forcing themselves from her lungs where she trapped them. The hallways seem long all of the sudden and a chill creeps through her.

Duke Adonai is dead. Her _father_ is dead? No... he can't be! She would know... 

Satine reaches a point where she must make a decision. She can melt into the ground in the Senate hallway, sobbing out the feelings of grief that are threatening to push through the numbness of her shock... or she can find answers. 

There is, of course, only one correct answer in a time of war. She picks herself up and marches to the elevators. The world around her seemed blurry and slow. Nothing about it feels real. _Maybe this is all a dream?_

Satine prays that it is. That she is just having a moment of awareness in the midst of a horrible nightmare.

Within minutes, she is barging into the Chancellor's office, not caring to go through the usual pleasantries. "Did you know?" Her voice sounds foreign coming from her mouth. It is demanding, yet strained with the rasp of holding back a sob. 

Chancellor Valorum looks shocked, both from her sudden presence in his office and her vague question. "Lady Kryze, what do I--"

"My father. Did you know?" Valorum's face falls. It is all the answer she needs. Satine stands in front of his desk with her arms wrapped around herself as though she will fall apart if she doesn't hold herself together. She feels like a child, but she doesn't care. Her anger quickly fails to keep its flame and turns to sadness. "When?" 

"I was informed of Duke Adonai's assassination very soon after our last meeting, a little over a week ago."

"A week!"

" _But,"_ he looks physically pained as he stares at her, and she distantly wonders how pathetic she must look right now. "I was also told in the same report the death would be reported to you by representatives of Clan Kryze personally." 

Satine's head whirs. She opens her mouth, but no words manage to escape. She closes it again, hugging her arms around her tighter. 

"My deepest apologies, truly. When you mentioned your sister had arrived on Coruscant... I thought you knew." 

Satine presses her lips together to hide that they are quivering. She bows shallowly. "I thank you for your honesty, Chancellor, and apologize for this outburst." Before he can answer she is out the door, tears already streaming down her face. 

It is a different kind of sadness that fills Satine now. She expected to wail, collapse in a pit of despair, but the tug of grief is much quieter than that. Her tears stream continuously down her face in hot streams that drip off her cheeks. Her throat is tight, feeling as though she will never be able to open it to speak of the horrors she is feeling inside. While she cries, silently and solemnly, she is not crumbling. Quite the opposite, actually. She walks with conviction to the elevator, fueled by the anger of _betrayal_. Never has violence crossed the mind of Satine so vividly as in this moment when her comlink rings and it is Bo-Katan. 

She ignores it. Satine steps into the lift and presses the button to let her out at the taxi drive. 

* * *

Obi-Wan slips off his cloak, wrapping it around the soaking girl. He can't help but notice how small she looks. She is an average size for a human female, a few inches shorter than Obi-Wan himself, but somehow she always seemed taller. Maybe it was her strong posture that gave her a commanding look or her voice that tends to fill a room when she speaks. He was always aware of her presence when he was in it, but now she feels like she is trying to take up as little space as possible. 

"Come," he says softly, placing a hand at her shoulder blades and is surprised when she doesn't jolt away from him. 

They walk silently through the Temple. Obi-Wan receives many looks from passerby's, but he makes sure the message he projects in the Force is a firm _mind your business_. Even the initiates make a point not to stare.

Of course, he cannot _not_ run into people he knows. Bant is walking with Garen, both of whom see Obi-Wan with a trembling civilian. They look surprised and worried, nearly stopping to talk before he makes it obvious he must continue. He presses his lips into a thin line as he acknowledges them, promising to explain later as he passes.

Obi-Wan takes her to a lounge area that civilians are able to occupy and sends a quick message to Qui-Gon to meet him as soon as possible. 

The lounge is quiet and comfortable. Satine clutches Obi-Wan's cloak around herself as she settles onto one of the couches. He watches her closely, unsettled at the way she is moving about the room. It is like she is floating aimlessly through space, not trying to push herself in any certain direction. Just... drifting. That empty look on her face has at least settled into more of a neutral expression, though it is plainly obvious she has been crying. 

He sits next to her, putting a good distance between them to allow her space. She stares down at her lap where her fists have balled up the thick material of his cloak. 

"I did not know where else to go," she says softly, her voice raspy and raw. She looks up at him, her blue eyes seeming much brighter lined with tears. "And I am sorry for how I have treated you, Obi-Wan. It was not fair of me." 

"The past is the past," he says, nodding with gratitude. "That is not why you are here, though. What is going on? Are you hurt?" 

Lady Satine shakes her head. "It is not me who is wounded. Physically, at least." 

Obi-Wan cocks his head to the side in confusion. She clears her throat, staring past him. "The ruler of Mandalore is dead. My... My father." She closes her eyes, breathing deeply, and Obi-Wan now can feel the deep grief radiating through the Force. He allows himself to feel it for just a moment, letting the heaviness settle in his own chest. Obi-Wan wants to reach out and offer a touch of comfort, but he restrains himself. Her eyes open once again, swirls of conflict in them now. "And now that the Duke is dead I-" Her vision focuses back on Obi-Wan, awe evident on her face like she is just realizing her words. "I am Duchess of Mandalore." 

* * *

_Earlier_

In the same way she barged into Chancellor Valorum's office, Satine bursts into her own apartment. Bo and Nel stand in the center of the living space, turning in surprise at the racket. 

"Satine!" Bo says, her eyebrows narrowing in anger. "What the hell are you--"

Bo is cut off by Satine grabbing her by the collar and pulling her close so they are nearly nose-to-nose. Nel twitches but doesn't pull them apart.

"Why were you sent here?" 

Bo's eyes calmly search Satine's face. 

"To bring you home." 

Satine's anger is quiet and deadly. "I see. So not to tell me our _father_ has been _killed_?" 

For the first time, Bo looks shaken. "How did you--"

Another flash of rage courses through Satine. She pushes her sister backward, suddenly needing an entire galaxy of space between them. "So you've been keeping this from me? Do you think me a fool?" 

"No, sister, please, just--"

"No justification you give me can change the fact that you have kept me in the dark. And for what? There is no reason you can give that would put any sense to this madness!"

Bo looks at a loss for words, alternating between looking at her and Nel. Having suddenly remembered Nel is standing there too, Satine turns her attention to him. 

"And I am guessing you are just as complacent in all of this." 

He stares at her with much less visible emotion than Bo, which makes Satine feel even worse. "It was for your own good, Satine." 

"Don't tell me what is my own good. You strung me along, made _me_ feel bad for not knowing what is going on in Mandalore when you are the one deliberately not telling me vital information." She looks back at Bo. "I want you both to leave." 

"Be reasonable, Satine!" 

"Reasonable?" she scoffs. "You are disillusioned if you think _I_ am the one being unreasonable in this situation. I want you out. Immediately." 

A war with words is not one that Bo-Katan can easily win. She looks at Nel and they silently retire to their rooms to get their things. 

By nightfall, Bo and Nel have left. They produced orders that Kira was also to return, so Satine's good cousin begrudgingly leaves with them. For the first time in years, Satine is truly alone, and naturally, it should fall in the moment she wants anything other than to be alone. 

Finally, she wallows. The grief hits her like a truck and she falls where she stands. It has been years since she has seen her father, and now he is gone before she can say goodbye. Before she can apologize for the hell she raised when he ordered her to Coruscant. She did not understand then. Sometimes, she still doesn't. But she knows enough to know he was saving her life. Saving the future of Mandalore as much as it hurt. 

At some point, she falls asleep on the floor. Satine only knows that this happens when she wakes up with a booming post-sobbing headache and a crick in her neck from resting on the hard ground. It is morning, and all is still. She slowly picks herself up, stretching out her cramped limbs and staring blankly into space. 

The pain of loss has diminished. The sentiment is there but she feels much more in control of her emotions. With a clear head, Satine now can see the path ahead of her. She knows what she must do. 

It's raining when she steps out of the complex. While she moderately prepared for this by choosing to wear a warm tunic and water-repellant trousers, the feeling of the cool droplets against her skin still sends a shiver down her spine. She hardly cares, though, as the numbness from the rain complements the way she already feels. 

Satine at least has her nerves to distract her from her other anxieties. The closer she draws to the Jedi Temple, the more she concludes that this is pretty much the opposite of what she wants to do. Unfortunately, what she _wants_ and _needs_ to do are very different things in this situation. Master Jinn has been kind enough, clearly offering her a lifeline with no mention of her previous biases against her security detail. Obi-Wan, however, is another story. 

She can't say he hasn't been an upstanding Jedi to her. In terms of doing his duty, he has done just that. Even in their squabbles, he certainly has the gift of wit, but she can't claim he has disrespected her. Even so, to face him again is making Satine nervous. Maybe it is of her own embarrassment for how crudely she has been judging him, or maybe they truly are incompatible. He just... simply drives her crazy. The fact she is finding it increasingly difficult to present concrete reasons for this feeling makes her even madder. 

By the time Satine reaches the front steps of the Jedi Temple she is riddled with anxiety, regret, and shaking from the chill. Though the walk is only a kilometer at most, the rain is unrelenting in soaking her to the bone. How pitiful she must look... maybe it is why the Temple guards take no time in allowing her entry once she alerts she is there to meet Qui-Gon Jinn. 

Satine has never been in the Jedi Temple, and her expectations of what she would find are not at all what she expected. There is a simple beauty to the vaulted ceilings, plentiful tall windows, and various shows of impressive art. The visitor's entrance opens to a large rotunda of multiple passages going in every which way. The guard instructs her to wait to be met by Master Jinn, and so she has time to take it all in. 

While the architecture is gorgeous, Satine is most surprised by the people that now surround her. Children of all races and species fill the corridor. Laughing, teasing, talking in large clusters-- it feels more like a primary school than a Temple, lively and inviting. She stands in place, slowly turning to take it all in. A Jedi Master-Apprentice pair walks through, the Master reaching out to tug on the padawan's braid affectionately. A small group of elderly Jedi pass, throwing her small smiles that seem to quell her stress just a little bit. In the center of the room, she spots a young man, a padawan based on his braid. He weaves through the crowd, standing quite tall over the more plentiful children. Satine watches as he swiftly changes his course ever so slightly to greet one of the young ones with a ruffle to his hair. The kid squeals, making his little friends also giggle at the attention. The young man turns, flashing a big bright smile at the kid and making Satine suck in a sharp breath. 

Obi-Wan is the young man, though he is not at all the man she has known thus far. This Jedi is standing tall with his shoulders back, basking in the comfort of his home. Gone is any sign of awkwardness or discomfort she usually associated with him and now she sees a boy as lively as the Temple he lives in, somehow seeming to bring a little bit of brightness to a cold and dreary day.

Satine realizes she has seen the Jedi smile but she has never seen him _grin_. 

Obi-Wan continues on, but then he stops. Satine's heart is pumping in her chest as he suddenly turns around, staring directly at her like he knew she was there all along. Her heart drops when his happy demeanor fades at the very sight of her. _Why couldn't it have been Master Jinn_? 

He is approaching her now, his eyes scanning over her like is trying to figure out a star chart with no coordinates. Sizing her up, though he has no reason to do so. Never has she felt smaller. 

"Lady Satine?" he sounds surprised but genuinely curious. "Are you well?"

_What clued him in? Was it the soaking wet clothes? How horrid I must look right now after spending the night sobbing and sleeping on the floor? A Jedi needs no Force to make that deduction._

"I'm afraid I must ask for your help." 

His eyes search hers, and then he nods. The next thing she knows he is carefully wrapping his cloak around her shoulders. While usually, she would object to such a gesture, especially from Obi-Wan, Satine is _cold_. The cloak is thick and warm and has a lingering scent of warm spice and a touch of sweetness that reminds her of an aromatic cup of tea. She has no energy to deny such a pleasant feeling, and even allows his hand to lightly rest at her back as he guides her through the Temple. 

He takes her to a lounge area. Small but cozy. Obi-Wan mutters something about Master Jinn coming as well but his voice just sounds far away. She's distracted. Not by the things that actually matter but about the trivial things that take her mind away from her loss. 

"I did not know where else to go... And I am sorry for how I have treated you, Obi-Wan. It was not fair of me." 

He looks surprised and concerned. The young Jedi is not nearly as distant as she expected him to be at their reunion, but showing great interest in her wellbeing. He asks why she is really here and Satine finally musters the courage to say it aloud.

"The ruler of Mandalore is dead. My... My father." she chokes as she tries to keep her breaths even, pushing away the panic attack that threatens to surface. But as the words settle into the air, realization hits Satine like a truck. _The ruler of Mandalore is dead_. "And now that the Duke is dead I-" She cannot bear to say it aloud. It's too soon. She is not ready. The panic continues to surge through her until she finally focuses on Obi-Wan, his calm eyes staring at her with patience and sympathy. She looks back, allowing herself to be grounded in his placid energy. _Duty. It is my duty._ "I am Duchess of Mandalore." 

_Duchess of Mandalore_. It sounds foreign. For so long her future has been talked about in what felt like theoretical terms, but suddenly nothing is rhetorical. 

"Satine," the Jedi says softly. She realizes he has never addressed her in such an informal way, but she will allow it for this moment. "I am so sorry. What can I do?" 

The door to the lounge opens and in walks Qui-Gon Jinn. His expression is laced with trepidation upon seeing the two sitting on the lounger. Satine looks at Qui-Gon, and then back to his padawan.

"I must return to Mandalore. At once." 


	6. Don't Be Impertinent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan, and Satine go to Mandalore.

Though spacetravel is usually regarded as being quite cold, Obi-Wan is quite aware of feeling anything but chilly as he and Qui-Gon travel to Mandalore with Lady Satine-- sorry, _Duchess_ Satine. For the first hour or so all has been quiet. Silent. Uncomfortably enough that his nerves have him on edge and thus his cheeks have remained flushed for much of the journey. He can feel Qui-Gon looking at him ever so often from the pilot's seat. Checking to see if he has settled into meditation yet. Probably gearing up for a lecture on mindfulness and putting his anxieties at bay once he is sure Obi-Wan has no intention of releasing his feelings to the Force. 

It's a lecture he hears often enough he can give it to himself. It doesn't change the anxiety brewing in his chest. He stares out the front window of the small passenger liner as hyperspace speeds by. The Duchess is somewhere in the main hold. He can feel her presence through the Force. Unsure. Withdrawn. 

_She just lost her father. Found out she is to take the throne of Mandalore. Of course, she is feeling these things._ Obi-Wan cannot imagine the pain of losing a parental figure and having to take on such an immense responsibility. He wants to help in some way, but unfortunately, all he can offer is his condolences. It makes him feel helpless and uncomfortable.

"I'm sure I can handle things here if you wish to go keep the Duchess company," Qui-Gon says with a tone Obi-Wan knows is more of an order than a suggestion. 

"I don't believe my company would be appreciated, Master." 

"And why is that?" 

He sighs, looking up at his Master. "I'm afraid the Duchess does not like me very much." 

Qui-Gon smiles, a strange reaction, Obi-Wan thinks. "Yet she came to _you_ for help. I sense she trusts you." 

"She commed for you, I'm sure, I just happened to be walking by," Obi-Wan dwells on Qui-Gon's last statement for a moment before shaking his head. "And it is possible to trust someone while also vehemently disliking them." 

The Jedi Master chuckles. "Perhaps. At least go check on her, padawan."

With no room to deny a request that direct, Obi-Wan stands, folding his arms into the opposite sleeves of his cloak. As he expected, he finds her sitting in one of the lounge seats of the main hold. Contrary to her raggedy appearance when she appeared at the Temple, she now looks much closer to how he has seen her usually. Her travel tunic and leggings are of a thick, dark blue material, embroidered at the hems so it is quite obvious it is the garment of royalty and of the highest quality. A dark green vest flows down to her ankles and gathers at the buckle of her black boots. Despite looking well, it is obvious by the hollowness of her eyes and the dark circles that seep through any attempt by makeup to cover them that she is not as okay as her appearance may make her out to be. 

Obi-Wan loiters awkwardly in the doorway until she looks up, locking eyes with him. 

"Can I help you with something, Padawan Kenobi?" she says, her tone not so much combative, but empty. 

Obi-Wan takes a step into the room. "I was-- Master Jinn told--," he stammers, finally clearing his throat. "H-How are you doing, your highness? Are you comfortable?" 

"As comfortable as I can be. It has admittedly been a long time since I have partaken in extended space travel." The duchess pauses. "I suspect you spend a lot of time traveling as a Jedi?" 

_An invitation to stay?_ Obi-Wan wonders if she is engaging him in conversation to distract herself or because she actually wishes to speak with him. He leans up against the wall with his hands still hidden in his sleeves. 

"We travel quite often, yes."

"You've seen very many amazing places then?" There's a wistfulness in her tone.

Obi-Wan swallows hard. "I suppose, though, the duties of a Jedi often bring us to systems that require help. So we see the more... uncivilized side of the galaxy more often than the wonders." 

Reminders of some of the worst he's seen flash through his mind. _Bandomeer. Telos. Kegan._ He holds back a wince. 

"I suppose... I'd never thought of that." 

He smiles softly. "People like to assume our lives are adventures-- and they are, I suppose. Just not as glamorous as many think." 

"Do you like being a Jedi?" 

"Yes," he says without hesitation. "I cannot imagine doing anything else." 

"Can you know that if you have never known a world outside the Jedi Order, though?" he blinks, his throat suddenly feeling tight. Another reminder of his past, the year he left the Order, lays heavy in his mind. He _absolutely_ knows what it is like to not be a Jedi, and he came to realize his mistake rather quickly. She mistakes his silence for offense and adds, "I am not being critical, just curious."

"The Jedi are my family. The Temple is my home. I believe in the Jedi Code and my duty for peace."

"Peace," the Duchess echoes, shaking her head. 

"Your highness?" 

"It's... I do not wish to argue with you." 

Obi-Wan stares at her, confusion and curiosity prodding at him to ask further. "I'm afraid I do not see a point of contention here. You also wish for peace for Mandalore, do you not?" 

"I do." 

"Then... I also do not wish to argue but I'm afraid I don't see where an argument would arise." 

She sighs, looking at her hands folded in her lap and then back up at Obi-Wan. There's a firmness that wasn't there before. A spark of passion in her previously empty expression. "Violence solves nothing. Achieving peace through violence and war is just putting people in a state of fear that holds them until an eventual revolt. And then the cycle continues. It is a past that Mandalore has a long history of and a future I do not want for my people." 

"Is there an alternative? I would think the opposite of peace _is_ war." 

"No," she says firmly. "Not exactly. The opposite of peace is conflict. War implies violence, but conflict is just a state of being unsettled. A problem that can easily be solved through diplomacy. _Not_ a blaster... or a lightsaber." 

He suddenly understands. Her line of thinking is theoretically true but... preposterous to actually believe it could be applied to reality. Her people are _actively at war_ and she has this idea of coming in and somehow converting the entirety of the Mandalorian people to a pacifist tradition? The notoriously violent Mandalorians? She mustn't be serious. Obi-Wan can feel her staring at him, waiting for a response or the inevitable argument she expects to come. 

"So how do you expect to implement this when you return?" he asks carefully, trying to keep his tone as neutral as possible. The duchess seems surprised by his question.

"Well, I-- I must see the condition of things when I get there. Meet with the leaders of the New Mandalorians to see what diplomatic actions have been taken." Obi-Wan nods politely, holding back his reservations about the vague nature of her answer, but he supposes he can at least give her the benefit of the doubt of arriving on the planet. "But you see, it's not just the leaders I must convince. It's the people. The civilians. Public opinion is where the power lies, not in the crown." 

"Do you believe the people will receive your return well?"

Satine blinks, and Obi-Wan duly notes her rise in agitation through the Force. _She hides it well, though_. "What would make you ask that?" 

"Your sister was quite... vocal of the fact..." he swallows hard, regretting his question instantaneously. "...that you'd been gone a long time." 

"My sister..." she trails off, sucking in a sharp breath. "My sister is _spirited_. Young. She does not understand what it takes to be a ruler, only a fighter." 

"So the civilians will know what it is like to be a ruler?" Obi-Wan prods, the back of his mind telling him to _back off_ , but now his wit is starting to get the better of him. Satine stares at him, the neutrality in her face shifting to a dull fury behind her intense eyes. She stands. 

"You assume things you know nothing of, Jedi."

"And what do you think I know of?" Obi-Wan also pushes off the wall.

"I suspect most of it has to do with swinging that damn sword around," she swings her arms wildly for emphasis. 

"You know about as much of the Jedi as you claim I know about ruling. The difference is I _have_ led. Through war and peace negotiations and everything in between. Let me tell you, Duchess, as much as you want to talk your way to peace, that is a dream that won't come true." 

Her eyebrows narrow. "It is no dream, Padawan Kenobi. You just are blind to the very possibility of true peace. That would most certainly put you out of a job, wouldn't it?" 

He doesn't remember stepping forward. Or seeing her come closer either. But they are nearly nose-to-nose now, the tension so palpable between them Obi-Wan is sure he could grasp it. Her eyes stare into his dangerously. They swirl with anger and irritation and... insecurity. Grief. Obi-Wan lets out a slow breath, diffusing his own riled up feelings, but still maintaining intense eye contact. 

"Your Highness I--," he says, softening his tone.

"Wouldn't it?" she repeats, obviously in no interest to back down. A fight she expected, and a fight she got. Obi-Wan sighs. He should not have allowed this to happen. Should have just checked on her and returned to his master. _No use in dwelling on the past now._

"Jedi are peacekeepers. Maybe not your specific brand, but we want the _same things_." 

"So you ridicule my plan for peace?" 

Obi-Wan holds back a laugh. "I do recall you insulted my beliefs far before I criticized yours." Satine doesn't reply, just stares back at him. Her jaw unclenches with slight resolve. He cocks his head to the side. "Tell me, is this how we are destined to spend this assignment? Antagonizing one another at every chance we get? I don't see that going anywhere good." 

"With any hope, this will be a _short_ assignment then." she bites back. The padawan's shoulders drop as he exhales slowly once again. 

"Very well," he says softly, stepping back and giving her a short bow. "I will leave you, then." 

Obi-Wan turns on his heels and walks quickly out of the hold. As soon as the door closes behind him he stops, pressing his back against the wall and dropping down to the floor. He lets out a shaky breath, diving into a hard-and-fast meditation. The Force surrounds him, calms him. This. _This_ is why he is a Jedi. This feeling. This support. His frustrations slowly filter out, along with any of the things she said to him that caused him to stir. How she seems to strike at his very core so pungently is beyond him, but what he does know is he won't let it happen again. Where there was once promise that maybe he could foster friendly relations with her, now there is his answer. Obi-Wan and Duchess Satine just do not mesh. 

He can feel Qui-Gon brushing against his bond. Wondering where he is and probably why his shields are so tight. Obi-Wan releases the remainder of his negative feelings, bringing himself to a calm neutral. Slowly he stands, straightening his robes, and returns to the cockpit. 

* * *

Satine is shaking. She stood strong as they talked, stronger as their words become venomous, and even when he stared her down. 

And then his entire demeanor turned calm. Just like that, he had tapped into reason and rationality, and for some reason that angered her more than anything he had insinuated. Now her hands are shaking. She clasps them together, thankful he turned around before they began. 

_Who does he think he is_? 

He thinks himself better than her. More knowledgable. More experienced. That as much was obvious. His pride had shone through as strong as ever. She knew her initial instincts were right. Maybe the Jedi is charming but at his core, he is the same as every other man who underestimates her. 

So why does Satine feel guilty? 

Sure, she prodded him. Practically promised an argument, but he still persisted past her warning. Obviously, he just does not know any other way. The Jedi has lived a life sheltered in the Jedi Temple. But... he said something that surprised her. _I have led. Through war and peace negotiations and everything in between._ He did not claim to have fought a war. He claims to have _led._

Perhaps he does know the stress she is under. If that is true, then Satine would expect him to understand her position. Her need to end the violence. One who has seen war would undoubtedly never want to see it again. 

Satine sighs. She makes her way back to the lounger she abandoned in the spirit of the moment. Sleep sounds enticing, but her mind is racing far too rapidly for any of that. She compromises to just sit, trying her hardest to get the Jedi Padawan out of her mind, and ultimately failing. 

When the door opens again hours later, she expects to see Obi-Wan. Instead, it is the Master. His brown eyes sweep over her, emitting kindness and sympathy. Everything she would expect from her Jedi protector, yet she finds herself mysteriously a little disappointed to see him. 

"We will be landing soon, your Highness. I have transmitted the clearance codes you provided me with, and they have granted us a landing strip."

"Will we reach Keldabe by sundown?" she asks. Master Jinn's eyebrows knit together. 

"My lady, we are landing in Sundari." 

She blinks. "Yes... of course." She does not understand but she does not tell him that. Keldabe is the capital. She heard it was fairly damaged due to the fighting, but...

"We will reach Sundari right before nightfall, though." 

"Very good," 

The Jedi master bows, returning to the cockpit. Satine sits back, watching the beams of hyperspace fly past. She expected to at least go home when she would return to Mandalore. See where she grew up. Sundari was a lovely place to visit. The castle there was one of the most beautiful and one of her favorites when her father would take her with him on business. 

_Her father_. Oh, how she already missed him. Satine has missed him since the moment she left for Coruscant, but this was a different type of longing. For so long there was an end in sight. One day she would run into her father's arms, and he would pick her up and swing her around. 

" _Ner mesh'la bal kotir ad,"_ he would say, beaming at her with pride. _My beautiful and brave daughter._

Satine feels the ship jolt as it slows from hyperspeed. From the window in the hold, the planet of Mandalore appears. The sight of it makes her go still and the blood drains from her face. She feels neither beautiful nor brave right now. 

Seeing the planet makes it real. Though Mandalore is not her home planet, it is close enough. Her father used to tell her that long ago it was a beautiful place. It was lush with life, both sentient and in terms of expansive flora and fauna. Mandalore was once so lovely it was no wonder its original inhabitants became so fiercely protective of it-- unfortunately, that possessiveness turned into blood-thirst, and centuries of war to keep the beauty that was so coveted caused that beauty to wither. The planet is a wasteland now. Even from space it is easy to see from the sickly yellow-green hue. The flora and fauna and citizens are confined to massive bio-domes to keep the toxic air out. 

That is what Satine sees as they descend upon Sundari. A massive dome amongst the wasteland, heavily guarded against the elements. The ship dips down, being escorted in by small fighters into a landing strip into the interior of the bio-dome. She pulls her knees into her chest, her heart beating like crazy as it glides through the gates and opens up into a city that should be familiar and yet it feels like a new place. 

Sundari. Regarded as the most beautiful of the major Mandalorian cities for its extensive attention to traditional architecture and vast gardens, is as dull and quiet as outside the dome. Never has Satine seen it so still, so lacking the luster of millions of Mandalorian citizens. Though it is still daytime hours, the streets are empty, only occupied by abandoned speeders it seems. 

"Bo was right," she whispers, unable to take her eyes off it all. "I've been away too long." 

The ship reaches the palace landing zone and she can hear the Jedi approaching. Satine slips back into the Lady Kryze state of mind. Duchess Kryze. Leader of Mandalore and the New Mandalorian movement. The door opens and she stands, neutralizing her expression and smoothing her tunic. 

"Shall we?" 

They walk on either side of her, obviously remaining alert from their lack of conversation. The trio descends out of the ship and onto the landing platform where a small unit of Mandalorians in full beskar armor stands at attention. Satine recognizes the characteristic blue and gray painting and round emblem of Clan Kryze and she nearly bursts into tears with relief.

The Mandalorian in the front steps forward, reaching up to remove the helmet. Long red hair comes tumbling from beneath the helmet, and Satine breaks out into a smile.

"Kira," she says with relief, hurrying forward to embrace her cousin. The embrace is firm. Almost desperate. Though the beskar is uncomfortable to hold, she squeezes tighter as though Kira could feel the pressure through the armor. 

"I am so sorry for your father, Satine," Kira whispers, leaning back and tucking a strand of Satine's hair behind her ear. "I wish your return was not under these conditions," she glances back to where the Jedi are idle. "Or with such company." 

"After you and Bo left I... needed reassurance." 

Kira's lips press together and she nods. "I'm sorry about that too. I had--"

"No choice. I know." 

They finally release, and Satine realizes she is not alone with her cousin but amongst a whole group of other of her clan. She steps back, taking in the armored group and greeting them with a polite nod. To her surprise, they all bow, low and regally. _Is someone approaching?_ Satine thinks, turning around, only to see the Jedi staring back at her... and they certainly wouldn't be bowing to Jedi. She looks back at the bowing Mandalorians, catching the amused smirk of Kira. 

"We welcome you home, _Duchess_." 

_Duchess_. Somehow _that_ fact slipped her mind. She quickly catches up, relieving them of their respectful gesture and allowing herself to get swallowed into the crowd as they escort her into the palace. The Jedi trail behind, all but forgotten. 

A part of Satine expected to feel relief arriving back here. A part of her _is_ relieved, but the nervousness that is curdling in her gut masks it. Though she is surrounded by her clan, walking into the Sundari palace, the silence of the city is ever-present. A reminder that though she is home, her home is not what it used to be. Maybe it never will be again. 

* * *

The Mandalorians are polite enough to offer them a room for the night. Obi-Wan is quite sure even this is overstaying their welcome, but the quarters on the ship might as well be metal cubbies in the wall. Not to mention a man of Qui-Gon's stature physically doesn't fit in them without curling into a fetal position. 

They accepted the hospitality, even though it was offered by a stone-faced Duchess. 

"Master, I believe they want us to leave."

"Don't be impertinent. Our host is perfectly happy to house us for the night... but quite a different mission than we are used to, is it not?" Qui-Gon says casually as he stands in front of the window facing out into the city. 

"Certainly lacking our usual outlined mandates."

The Jedi Master hums in agreement. "Yes, but we are still here as protectors until we are dismissed." 

"The Duchess is surrounded by heavily armed Mandalorians, Master... And I am fairly sure hinting at us to leave first thing in the morning was dismissal enough." 

"That is what you see padawan, but what do you feel?" 

He sighs, standing from the bed. "I feel I should probably go meditate." A slight chuckle from the wry master as Obi-Wan leaves Qui-Gon's room and crosses through the adjoining bathroom to his own suite. Five years under Master Jinn has taught him a lot-- including that _that_ was code for _go meditate, Obi-Wan._

Obi-Wan settles on the end of his bed, crossing his legs underneath him. Sinking into the cradle of the Force he reaches out into the unfamiliar feelings of this new planet-- and nearly recoils in horror. Usually, he likes to find something in the Force to anchor him. Something light, easy to grasp that ushers him into a deeper meditation. Usually, it is an easy thing to find, at least on Coruscant and most planets they have visited. But when Obi-Wan reaches out here, he is met with the startling revelation that pain and darkness are much more abundant than light. It brings a pit to his stomach that he has not felt in a long time. 

There's something about war that just seems to dim the light of the Force. The death, suffering, and needless violence are all conduits to the dark side, and here Obi-Wan can feel it festering. While it is not against the rules for a Jedi to meditate in a place that is stronger with the dark side, it certainly is uncomfortable. 

It is probably why Qui-Gon was adamant he tries. 

Pushing away the fear and suffering, Obi-Wan starts smaller. He can feel Qui-Gon's presence in the Force like a beacon of light, and he begins there. There is a nudge against their bond, a show of encouragement that he is taking a good approach. The validation is enough for Obi-Wan to keep following the sliver of light. The Force in the palace is not as dark as the outside world, and he can feel warmth emulating from the throne room. Welcoming. Joy. But also some stress. Nervousness. The Duchess was set to be discussing her transition to power with others of her clan. The fostering in of the New Mandalorians, they called it. Her plan for peace. 

Obi-Wan grimaces. Despite his misgivings on the ship, he does hope the best for her in her endeavors. She will learn eventually. He is confident of that. 

From the throne room, he follows the light, forming a greater feeling of the underlying forces of Mandalore. He senses bonds between people and the comfort and light that comes from that. Relief at the quiet in the war-torn streets... but also an edge of anxiety for the same reason. Hope seeps into his mind, a surprisingly strong feeling that he hadn't felt earlier but now it overwhelms him. Obi-Wan flows with the feelings and realizes it is growing.

 _Maybe I was wrong._ _Maybe the Duchess's return is exactly what they need._

Obi-Wan hopes so. 

The sentiments are inviting, and he uses them to form his meditation landscape. Calm washes over him as negativity filters away. He thinks about the argument he had with her earlier, and how he must control his tongue next time. She was grieving, looking for a distraction, and he allowed it to be unconstructive. It was not a compassionate choice to make, and he is ashamed of his behavior. 

She just... has this tendency to drive him nuts!

 _Nevermind that... I shall apologize before we depart and..._

Obi-Wan's train of thought stops at the onset of a familiar prickling feeling at the back of his neck. From within his meditation, he can feel the bond with Qui-Gon snap open, and Obi-Wan's world nearly tips in surprise. 

_"Padawan!"_

Obi-Wan opens his eyes, finding his master standing in his room, one hand on the door. He springs up on high alert. "I feel it too, Master." 

* * *

They run swiftly through the halls of the palace toward the throne room. Qui-Gon is a step or two behind his young padawan, even his long legs not able to keep up with the haste that Obi-Wan is showing. He can feel the premonition of violence clearly through the Force now. They must hurry. 

As they reach the throne room, Qui-Gon is dismayed to see that no clear threat has emerged-- someone in here is an imposter. Their sudden burst into the room yields the eyes of many that now focus on them. Had the threat not been so clear, he would have taken a more casual approach. 

"Master Jedi!" The young Duchess exclaims, standing from her throne. "Whatever is the matter?" 

Before Qui-Gon can say a thing, Obi-Wan is stepping forward, seemingly oblivious of the armed guards and their pointed stares. "Your Highness, we must... speak to you immediately," Obi-Wan glances back at him and Qui-Gon nods for him to continue. It's good to see the boy taking the initiative. Besides, it gives him a chance to try and sense out the assassin that must be standing in this very room. "There was an urgent message from the Chancellor." 

_Good thinking, Padawan_. 

"So urgent that you are to burst into my private audience?" 

"Please, Duchess, we would not interrupt your reunion without reason." 

She sighs, looking out upon the two dozen or so people in the room. Qui-Gon still cannot locate the danger, but the feeling is only growing stronger. "I apologize. We will resume this conversation momentarily." Duchess Satine steps away from the throne and starts walking down the stairs. The horrible feeling in Qui-Gon's chest reaches an apex, and suddenly the Force explodes. 

"Obi-Wan!" Qui-Gon yells, but his padawan is already moving. He sprints forward, grabbing the wrist of the Duchess and tugging her with him at the moment the throne blows up. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ner mesh'la bal kotir ad -- Mando'a for "My beautiful and brave daughter"
> 
> Now we're in the heat of things!


	7. Something Very Dreadful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An assassination attempt is made on Satine. Obi-Wan, Satine, and Qui-Gon flee Mandalore.

Had the Force not told him what was going to happen mere seconds before it happened, Obi-Wan has a sickening feeling that Duchess Kryze would be no more. One moment he was watching her walk toward him, obviously embarrassed and thoroughly pissed off that they were stealing her away from her return party. Even more pissed off it was _him_ of all people. 

The next, the Force was bellowing and in his mind's eye, he saw an eruption of heat, flames, and debris. He didn't think twice before darting forward, ignoring her pleas of protest and elbow digging into his chest. With haste, he wrapped his arm around her waist, positioning himself between her and the throne and dragging her forward. 

The force of the blast did the rest. Obi-Wan could feel the heat against his back and the push of the explosion make them go flying across the room. Satine was still pressed into his chest, her horrible scream the only thing he could hear besides the ringing in his ears. He pulls his arms around her tighter to keep her close to him, watching over her shoulder as they quickly approach the ground. Obi-Wan instinctively uses the Force to cushion their fall. Still, the impact against the ground is harsh. 

He turns on his shoulder, taking her with him into a tight roll to lessen their fall. They roll together once, twice, and then come to a stop with Obi-Wan hovering over her. He cradles her head from the debris and embers raining down upon them, thankful he ended up over her as small pieces of the destroyed throne smack against his back and legs. 

Beneath him, she is breathing harshly. He lessens his grip on her, slipping off to her side once the chaos seems to lessen. His ears are still ringing as she rolls over to look at him, her eyes wide with horror and a thread of blood dripping down her temple. She's saying something to him, but he can't yet hear her. He just watches her lips moving quickly, trying his best to read her lips. They form an O before relaxing and then her tongue goes up to meet the roof of her mouth. He recognizes the shape of his name, can practically hear her voice in his head saying it. The next thing he picks up is _okay_? 

Is he okay? He hadn't considered it, but from the way his own body is still thrumming with adrenaline, it is something he doesn't have to think about quite yet.

Her hand reaches out and touches his cheek. Gentle but urgent. He blinks. He's been laying here too long. Danger is still afoot, and he needs to get her out of here. 

Obi-Wan pushes himself to his feet, pulling her up with him and wrapping an arm around her waist again. He looks around for Qui-Gon, but the Jedi Master is nowhere in sight amongst the chaos. Mandalorians fly frantically on their jetpacks, weapons pointed at every entry and window to secure the perimeter. With the explosion and the jet exhaust, a thick smoke fills the room, obstructing any good vantage Obi-Wan could possibly find. 

_Padawan_ , a frantic voice in his head yells. Obi-Wan nearly jumps for joy. _There is a secret entrance to tunnels below the city behind the throne. Bring the Duchess there._

 _Yes, Master,_ he replies, looking around for a way behind the platform with the decimated throne. 

Muffled yelling begins to cut through the ringing as Obi-Wan's hearing finally begins to return. He guides the Duchess with him, following a tip in the Force to cut through a haze of smoke. 

"Why are you going _back_?" the Duchess hisses as he pulls her toward the source of the explosion. 

"Trust me," he says, probably a little too loud.

She surprisingly doesn't fight him further. 

Now looking back at the source of the detonation, Obi-Wan is shocked they weren't pulverized. Where a regal throne once stood there is now a charred scar. The blast tore through the wall of the palace and blasted out all the transperisteel of the windows. Small fires blaze on the remnants of anything that once decorated the leader's seat. Obi-Wan can feel Satine suck in a breath and stagger back at the sight. He feels bad for it, but he urges her forward. They cut beside the throne, and Obi-Wan finds there is indeed an ajar trapdoor in the ground. He releases Satine and reaches down to pry it up with both hands. Though hot to the touch it opens easily, and he stands to hold out his hand to help her down. She stares back at him, her dress tattered and caked with ash and hair a mess of blood and sweat, quickly turning into a mess. _How beautiful_ , he thinks to himself.

And immediately diagnoses himself with a concussion.

The Duchess takes his hand and descends into the passageway. The sound of blasters erupt in the throne room and Obi-Wan watches streams of red and green reflect against the cloud of smoke and carnage. _War truly is the same no matter the time, place, or antagonists._

Obi-Wan follows her into the tunnel, pulling the door shut behind him. 

It's dark in the tunnel, but the Force guides him. The stakes are too high to use his saber as a light source right now. He reaches for her wrist to place her hand on his shoulder to guide her, but to his surprise she slips her hand in his, intertwining their fingers. Not what he was going for, but it works. They walk in stark silence as footsteps and faint yelling pounds overhead. Reinforcements have arrived-- whether they are on the side of the Duchess or against her is unknown. Obi-Wan can't tell the difference in the Force. 

Qui-Gon's presence quickly grows, and as they turn a corner they see a faint glow a few meters ahead. The light stick is dim, but enough that Obi-Wan can see his master's face-- grim and etched with relief. 

"Master, are you okay?" 

"Quite fine, padawan. I should be asking the two of you that question." 

"I'm fine," Obi-Wan and Satine say in unison, and he can feel her gaze on him through the low light. He doesn't look back at her. 

"Good because we must make haste." 

"Where are we going?" Satine asks. Her voice is much less authoritarian now. Much younger. The voice of an eighteen-year-old girl who is rightfully terrified. 

Qui-Gon looks at her, putting on his best comforting expression. "Somewhere safe, your Highness."

* * *

They walked through the tunnels beneath the city of Sundari for what felt like hours. In reality, Satine has a feeling it was only a few minutes, but with her nerves at their wit's end already, time felt slower. Maybe it was the probable concussion she had to have sustained during that crash. Maybe it's the gravity of everything-- _everything_ \-- that came crashing down so quickly. 

She hadn't seen the explosion itself. Only saw the end result. Had the Jedi not been there... well, she'd certainly be nothing more than dust at this point. 

It was a wake-up call. A loud and violent one. She was almost assassinated. Murdered in front of her people. And now she walks alongside the Jedi, Master Jinn leading them and Satine holding the hand of the other one like if she doesn't have a lifeline she will simply vanish into the darkness. Though the trek has been quiet, she has a feeling there is much being unsaid. Especially with the Jedi who can speak to one another within their minds.

They must have expected her to lash out about going with them... wherever they are going. They probably expected a fight, which, is a fair assumption given her colorful history with Obi-Wan. Satine isn't a fool. She has already deduced that the only people who could have infiltrated the palace is... well, her own people. While everything in her wants to believe that this was a security fluke, she can't take that chance. Not when she has so many plans on how to bring Mandalore out of this horrible time. 

It is something her sister never understood. It takes one kind of strength to fight a battle, but it takes a different type of strength to not. As much as Satine would like to march back in there and demand to find the traitor amongst them, it isn't practical. In this instance, the smart move is to run, figure out who is trying to kill her, and find a way to end this war. Before, she was stubborn. She wanted to keep the Jedi out of this. Now, she must swallow her pride and actually accept their help. It may be the only way she survives to actually rule Mandalore. 

They are spit out at a platform beneath the edge of the city. The wind whistles between the wall of the biodome and the underbelly of Sundari, whipping her already-tousled hair around into what will likely be a rather difficult womprat's nest to brush out. For the first time since he saved her life, she looks at the boy she's been latching onto the last half an hour. His attention is focused on his Master who is checking for danger as they slowly inch out onto the platform. Even from his side profile, she can tell he looks like hell. His face is darkened with ash and blood. Her stomach turns at the small trickles of dried blood that peek out from his ear canals and nostrils. In fact, a lot of him seems to be injured. More than he has let on. His light beige robes betray him, openly displaying wounds from what Satine assumes is from projectile debris. Splotches of blood demarcate the various intrusions, but from his solid stance and unwavering expression, he doesn't seem to notice. 

She wonders if Jedi feel less pain than others. Maybe they just feel pain so often it is normal for them. Or they can control it easier. In whatever sense, the vast majority of his clothing is either singed or blood-stained, which doesn't bode well for chartering any sort of transport. 

He must have sensed her staring because suddenly they're locking eyes. Obi-Wan's gaze is serene-- baffling to see in such a situation. Satine is holding it together, but she's also _shaking_ which is a clear indication that all of this has been too much. Since he's still holding her hand, he is obviously aware of this but hasn't said anything about it. Satine is thankful for that.

"We're almost to safety," he says softly. She is just relieved he doesn't ask her if she's alright. To distract from her own mind walking on the edge of collapse, she decides to shift her attention elsewhere. 

"A good thing, I'd say. You need medical attention."

He looks at her with surprise and then looks down at himself as though he had no idea he's been steadily bleeding since the blast. 

"Oh. Hm." is his only response, locking eyes with her once more before turning his attention back to Master Jinn. "Master are we set to climb?" 

"Climb?" 

The Jedi Master turns around and nods. Obi-Wan turns, and with his hand still holding hers, Satine turns with him. Running up the city-side of the cavern is a system of ladders. She stares at them dauntingly. Satine has never been one to be afraid of heights, but something about climbing a ladder with no protection in the dark makes her stomach drop. 

"There is a landing pad at the top. We can commandeer a ship and get out of the system before they realize we have gone." 

"Commandeer-- you mean steal?" Satine fires back. 

"I mean _borrow_ to get you to safety, Duchess. Believe me, there is no other way. Our ship will be heavily guarded, if not compromised already," the Master Jedi says with the most urgency she has seen out of him thus far. _Fine_. She nods in agreement and they approach the ladder. "Obi-Wan will go first, and then you will go between us." 

Satine looks up at Obi-Wan, realizing it's time to let go of his hand and let him climb. She is the first to slip her fingers from his, almost immediately losing the warmth of his body temperature. She glances down at his hand, spotting him flex his fingers outward and then relax his hand. They linger for a moment, and he whispers something she doesn't catch over the wind. The padawan turns and begins climbing up the ladder. His body position puts his injuries on full display, and Satine looks up at his master to see his reaction. Shockingly, he doesn't seem surprised or even concerned. _Damn Jedi_. 

Satine grabs the rungs and pulls her weight onto the ladder. A flash of fear surges through her as she begins to climb, growing further and further from the safety of the ground. Climbing the side of Sundari was certainly never in her training for becoming the leader of Mandalore. 

Though, neither was evading assassins. 

When they reach the second level, her muscles are burning but she has the motion down. She manages to keep in time with Obi-Wan who is miraculously quick despite how sore he must be. 

By the third level, she is exhausted. They have one more to go until they reach the platform. Satine urges her body to keep fighting. _I can rest on the ship_. 

At least she hopes that is the plan. 

Half a level. 

Quarter left. 

Finally, Obi-Wan reaches the top and pauses to take a gander. He wordlessly hoists himself onto the landing platform and Satine follows close behind. His lightsaber is in hand as he continuously scans while Master Jinn gets up and then approaches the closest ship. Satine falls in step beside Obi-Wan once again, surprised when his fingers brush up against her hand. Her first instinct is to take it again, but she stops herself. Before that was... shock at play. They've both found their bearings now. _An error in spacing,_ She tells herself. _The boy is hopelessly concussed and probably disoriented._

"We took a roundabout way," he explains quietly as they head to a small passenger cruiser. "This is not the nearest platform, so with hope, they will clear the closer escape routes before this one." 

"Smart." 

"We Jedi have our moments." 

She looks at him and the wry smile he has across his face. _Cheeky bastard._ She just smiles back. 

By the grace of the Force, they manage to take off without a hitch. No evasive action necessary, just escaping through a service route and soon Mandalore is behind them. Feeling crowded in the cockpit, Satine retreats to the cargo space to explore. It's a small ship, single level with three separate chambers: cockpit, cargo, and underbelly. Probably made for a crew of four or five tops, but even that would be cramped. The pilot's quarters are behind the cockpit and she finds the passenger quarters tucked into the wall of the cargo area. A trio of bunks stacked three tall is etched into the wall like long cubbies. She pulls out some folded blankets and pillows from the bottom bunk, thankfully appearing to be unused or at least recently washed. Satine decides a little mindless work will calm her, so she makes the beds rummaging through other compartments as well. 

Footsteps approach. She turns to find Obi-Wan standing a few meters away with an armful of cloth. "Found clothes in the captain's quarters," he sets it down on a crate that Satine moved to obscure the bunks for better privacy. "Too small for Qui-Gon, but just about my size so some of it might be adequate for you as well." 

Satine approaches the stack of clothes to examine the pieces, glancing down at his still-ruined robes. "You _will_ be changing, right?" 

"I wanted to give you first pick." 

"And your wounds were treated?"

"Master Jinn will take a look once I change, your Highness." 

"Just...Satine," she says quickly, running her hand against the thick fabric of a cold-weather tunic. "Please." 

He's quiet, but he nods. She chooses the warm brown cold weather tunic that looks like it will fit her well enough, the smallest pair of burgundy pants, a belt, and a thick pair of socks. Obi-Wan goes to pick up the remainder but she stops him by placing her hand on his forearm. 

"I never thanked you." 

"Whatever for?"

"Saving my life. I-" she takes a deep breath. "I would have died without your help, Obi-Wan. I thank you. Wholeheartedly."

If she isn't mistaken, a bashful blush creeps onto his cheeks. "I truly am glad you are okay. I do wish we were able to snuff out the culprit though." 

"Soon enough the truth shall be revealed. I am sure of that." 

"I am also sure they won't stop until they have you," Obi-Wan says quietly, an edge to his voice. 

"You mean to frighten me, Padawan Kenobi, but I cannot be more alarmed than I already am." 

"I am well enough acquainted with you, Duchess Satine, to know I cannot alarm you even should I wish it. I only mean to tell you what I have felt." 

"Through the Force of yours?" 

He nods. "There is darkness on Mandalore," his eyes flicker away from her. "War tends to be like that." For a moment, he is lost in thought. Those bright eyes dim as they stare at the wall. And then he is back, as though the moment never wavered. "I will leave you to your privacy now. I can change in the captain's--"

"What of our past?" she asks suddenly. 

"Our past?" 

"Yes, I feel things have been said between us that remain lingering. I wish to address them." 

His face lightens. "Qui-Gon has always told me to not dwell in the past or future. To stay in the present, here and now. I am willing to leave the past in the past if you are," 

_As simple as that?_ She isn't sure what she expected, but a lighthearted smile and an aphorism weren't in her mind. The ease is refreshing though, and the relief she needs at the moment. 

"I would like that." 

He smiles again, and for a moment they stand in silence. Then he steps back, picking up the remaining clothes, and giving a small bow before disappearing back into the cockpit. 

Satine sits back on the bunk, hugging the clean clothing against her chest. 

* * *

Obi-Wan re-enters the cockpit with his arms still full of clothes. Qui-Gon is piloting manually still as they fly slowly away from Mandalore. 

"Master, why have we not gone into hyperspace yet? Surely Coruscant would be the safest place for the Duchess." 

"A good observation, padawan, but unfortunately the hyperdrive on this ship appears to be out of commission at the moment. We are confined to old fashioned space travel it seems."

"So where will we go then? Are there any Republic-controlled planets near enough?" 

Qui-Gon sets the ship to cruise and then turns in his seat. From the depth of his crows-feet and the small, yet firm smile Obi-Wan senses the beginnings of an impromptu lesson. 

"This presents a valuable learning moment, my padawan,"

_Called it._

"Oftentimes, missions go awry and we are out of reach of Jedi or Republic help. Right now we cannot discount the abilities of the Mandalorians-- twice now they have made attempts on the Duchess's life, and there seems to be a desperate escalation between the two tries. They will do what they can to take her out as well as us if it suits them. So we must make do, rely on our instincts and trust in the Force." 

"So we'll go into hiding?" 

"Strategic retreat," Qui-Gon smiles. "Remember, padawan, anything is considered _all part of the plan_ if you let it."

"Or give it a clever name."

A small laugh. "Right. I have set a course for the planet Vorpa'ya. It's an agricultural settlement, quite lovely actually. We will pose as refugees and figure out a plan from there." He stands. "Now, I believe you and I have the grueling task of tending to your wounds." 

Obi-Wan shifts uncomfortably. "I mean, I can take care of it my--"

The master holds a hand up to interrupt, unimpressed. "I know very well that you are tapping into the Force to ease the pain. If you're not careful you'll get Force exhaustion and then what good will you be in protecting the Duchess?" 

They walk into the captain's quarters, Obi-Wan feeling much like an akk dog with its tail between its legs. "I knew the importance of moving quickly, Master." 

Qui-Gon pulls a first aid kit from the refresher as well as a basin of warm water and a cloth. "Yes, though you seem to have really taken to the practice," his brown eyes flicker up to him. "Don't make it a habit, padawan." 

Obi-Wan lies on the floor face down, using the pillow from Qui-Gon's bed to cushion his head. "Of course, Master." 

He feels his outer tunic gets slowly peeled back. It pulls in some places, sending bursts of red-hot pain through his back and down his limbs. Obi-Wan holds back winces but is unable to control his fists from clenching and his legs spasming in response. _This is not going to be fun_. He can hear Qui-Gon swallowing thickly. "Dear Force, my padawan, why do you always seem to be in the direct path of trouble?" 

* * *

Satine was not aware she had drifted to sleep until she woke up to the feeling of the ship's landing gear engaging. The grogginess of poor sleep quality pulls at her to go back to bed, but she sits up to quell it. The other two bunks are empty, though the one above her has an indented pillow and a blanket bundled in a ball. Someone must have slept here and she must have been well into a deep sleep. 

She wanders up to the cockpit, finding Obi-Wan in the pilot's chair. She is pleased to see he has changed out of his bloody robes. 

"G'morning, Satine," he says, his attention still focused on landing. She walks up behind the pilot's chair, staring in awe at the landscape before them.

All she can see is green. Grassy plains stretch for miles, with blips of what must be animal of some sort grazing lazily. Even the sky is bright turquoise, more on the green side, she'd say, and cloudless. 

"It's... beautiful," she gasps. "Where are we?" 

"Vorpa'ya," he says, glancing up at her as though to confirm the pronunciation. 

"Vorpa'ya? We're still in Mandalorian space?" 

"No hyperdrive, I'm afraid." 

The ship dips down, heading straight for a section of light woods. The trees are space, but she assumes it will be enough for them to hide. 

"This is a Mandalorian planet though, won't they turn us in?" 

Obi-Wan shrugs. "Settlements are sparse if you could even consider them _settlements_. From what I understand, it is an agriworld for--"

"Nerfs. Yes." 

As though their conversation manifested it, a herd of nerfs come running into view. She is entranced by the strong, furry creatures and their bulbous bodies and sharp horns. So many times she has eaten their meat but never has she seen one in person. If she wasn't well aware of the rumors of their horrible scent, she would think them to be quite cute. 

"They sort of look like if the Hutts had fur and legs," Obi-Wan says

"Oh, so nothing like the Hutts then," she looks down at him to find him grinning. 

"You know, the general... shape of them though." 

She can't help but smile. "I suppose so." 

Satine is beginning to piece together a more complete picture of Obi-Wan Kenobi. He's wound tight, that's for sure, but there are these moments where she gets a glimpse of who he is behind his Jedi-dutiful facade. His toothy grin seems to be specifically crafted to make anyone else in the room feel the urge to smile back, and it does its job well. If only it were a more plentiful occurrence, perhaps he wouldn't come off as such a prideful ass.

He lands the ship just as Master Jinn appears from his sleeping quarters, a similar look of grogginess on his own face. The trees do in fact mask the ship quite well, much to the apparent pleasure of the Jedi. They stand, powering down the controls and going to take a look at their new hiding place. 

The cargo ramp drops, letting in a warm breeze from the outside. It smells of fresh air, grass, and the distinct aroma of manure, but somehow even that doesn't dull the charm of the pleasant temperature. 

The trio steps out into the open air, and Satine feels instantly rejuvenated. This planet has truly been so close to home all along? It reminds her of lake country on Naboo, sans the mountains and waterfalls. She must have been merely a child when they visited for a diplomatic dinner, but she never forgot the beauty of that planet. 

"Not a bad place to lay low," Obi-Wan says breathlessly, he himself gazing upon the lovely terrain with wonder. Now standing, she gets a better look at his non-Jedi attire. While her own tunic and pants are quite baggy on her, these seem to fit him perfectly. The off-white undershirt is of high quality and fits him well, extenuating the toned grooves of his arms modestly. It's V-neck pairs well with the light blue sleeveless tunic, similar to his Jedi robes in how they wrap, but much more complementary to his lean figure. He still has his belt strapped around his waist to hold his saber, and scuffed up boots she suspects have been through more action than she's seen in her entire life, but the black pants are a nice diversion from his usual monochromatic look. 

And then he looks at her, and she nearly gasps. With the daytime brightness and the color of his clothes, his bright blue eyes look as though they are literally twinkling. Satine isn't sure she will ever get over how well the color blue looks on this boy. 

"It will be good for now, but we mustn't let ourselves grow too comfortable. We are still well within the reach of Mandalore." the Jedi Master says, breaking her trance. "Come Obi-Wan, let's set up camp." 

"Yes, Master," he says, turning stiffly to head back into the ship. Satine had forgotten about his injuries from the day before. She trails behind him. 

"What can I do to help?" 

He looks at her with surprise, as though he hadn't expected any aid. "I am gathering firewood and Master Qui-Gon is going to seek out nerf farmer for some food and to get a lay of the land." 

"I can help you gather wood then. From the state of your back, I'm guessing bending over isn't the most comfortable motion." 

"My back is quite fine, I assure you," he says with a polite smile. They stop in front of a crate where his backpack sits. Before he can grab it, Satine reaches over and knocks it to the ground. He stares at her incredulously. 

"Okay, let's see you pick up that backpack then." 

He smirks, holding out his hand. The bag beings to levitate and Satine shakes her head. "Nice try, Jedi, I mean non-magically." 

"Well if I'm going to pick up the sticks using the Force, then-"

"So you are in pain then, is what you're saying?" She says, letting the little victory go to a small smile. Obi-Wan on the other hand deadpans. 

"Has anyone ever told you are you quite difficult, Duchess?" 

"I believe the descriptor you are looking for is _caring_ and _considerate_ , dear Jedi." 

They walk together out into the woods. Satine is suddenly thankful she was wearing boots the night of the explosion so that she is not stuck in formal shoewear. She takes care of picking up the pieces of fallen sticks, placing them into the arms of Obi-Wan. They make light talk, observations of the lovely day or comments on the nerfs that graze nearby. A few times, Satine takes hold of the stack of wood so Obi-Wan can slice a fallen tree into even pieces with his lightsaber. 

It's comfortable. Easy and light. Bordering on polite, but she prefers it to shouting.

As they walk back, the limp in his step becomes more pronounced. 

"Is it too heavy? I could take some," she offers. 

"I'm perfectly fine," he smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes. 

"Do you often hide the extent of your ailments, Obi-Wan?"

He scoffs. "You're starting to sound like Qui-Gon." 

"Well he is quite wise, I find." 

A pause. They fill it with soft chuckles. 

"To answer your question, we are taught how to use the Force to lessen the feeling of pain. So we can push through injuries to complete a mission." 

"So you admit you _are_ in pain," 

"Oh how clever of you," he says sarcastically. "Have you considered becoming a professional interrogator with those wits of yours?" 

"Tell me," she ignores his dry response. "how bad was it?" 

"Your interrogation? Well, I wouldn't consider it very thour--"

"Your _back_ , you nerf herder." 

He leans in, shaking his head disapprovingly. "My stars, Duchess, how dare you speak so ill of the locals!" 

"Are you ever not using your wit to avoid tough topics, Kenobi? I thought the Jedi were taught to be mindful." 

"Oh, I am quite mindful of my wit." 

She rolls her eyes. _This Jedi will be the death of me._ They walk in silence for a moment before he speaks again, this time his tone much softer and less dry. 

"Qui-Gon pulled eighteen pieces of shrapnel from my back and legs." 

She stops, looking at him incredulously. "Eighteen! Were they--"

"Not deep. Flesh wounds. Most shouldn't scar even without bacta," he answers before she has a chance to finish. Internally, the sickening feeling of guilt creeps up on her. He is only ridden with wounds because she was so hesitant to listen to them. Had she just gone with them the moment they asked, she would be further away from the explosion, and he wouldn't be so torn up. She looks away from him, not wanting to display her shame. 

Satine feels a touch just above her elbow and looks up to see he has hooked the wood under one arm, using the other to reach over. His face is scrunched with concern, and she nearly laughs out loud at the irony. 

"You feel guilty," he says as-a-matter-of-factly. 

"I'm the reason you're injured." 

He smiles, his shoulders bouncing in a silent laugh. "You are the last person I blame for a couple of stitches and a few days of being sore." 

"Then who do you blame?" 

His head cocks to the side like he hadn't considered it. "Well, I suppose I could air my grievances to whoever placed the bomb." 

"But you won't," she says. He nods. 

"How's that for pacifism?" Obi-Wan smiles, lightening his tone back to teasing. Her glimpse of a serious, non-sarcastic Obi-Wan has vanished. An intriguing departure it was. 

* * *

The warmth of the fire loosens Obi-Wan's muscles up nicely, easing the tension pulling on his wounds. Qui-Gon managed to work a deal with a nerf farmer a few klicks away. He came back with a bundle of nerf meat, root vegetables, some grain, and fresh water. Enough to certainly sustain them for a week. As it turns out, the Vorpa'ya people don't appear to have friendly sentiments toward their Mandalorian rulers. The agricultural planet was taken by force to join the system, and their locals don't forget this fact. 

Qui-Gon skewered the nerf meat and turned it to a rotisserie over the fire while the vegetables boil in a camping pan. While his master has never been much of a cook, somehow his survival meals are quite excellent. Though, anything can be considered delicious after a diet of mostly rations. 

"So, your Highness," Qui-Gon starts, throwing a mischievous glance Obi-Wan's way, which unnerves him to what could possibly be out of his mouth next. "What was my padawan like at these balls?"

"You really care to know, Master Jinn?"

Qui-Gon nods.

 _Oh this should be rich_. 

Satine doesn't skip a beat. "Prepare yourself for something very dreadful. The first time I saw him, at the Senatorial Ball, he danced with nobody at all- even though gentlemen were scarce and there was more than one young lady who was without a partner."

"We were on security detail, not to dance," Obi-Wan objects. Satine looks at him. 

"And security cannot be done whilst dancing?" 

"That's what I said," Qui-Gon cuts in. Obi-Wan looks at his master as though he betrayed him. _Even my own master on her side!_

"Though," Satine gives him a sympathetic smile. "He made up for it at the fundraising ball. I am impressed with the Jedi that they would educate in such detail as ballroom dancing." 

A surge of relief. _She was impressed with my dancing!_ Though the end of that dance and the night itself is conveniently not included in the narrative, her complement (though not toward him directly) is enough to allow him to forget that dreaded scene. 

"Diplomacy is not always achieved through words, young one. Dance and dining are often the basis of fruitful agreements." 

"I agree. We are taught such dances not just for the sake of etiquette." She glances back to Obi-Wan. Across the fire, she looks as though she is glowing. The low light extenuates the sharp contours of her face, giving her the aura of mysteriousness that fits quite well with her sharp personality. All he can do is take her in, watching him carefully with those inquisitive eyes. 

Deep within him, he can feel his attraction for her swell. It's a feeling he has spent many sleepless fits thinking long and hard about, and the more it grows the more he faces a rough time in quelling it. Qui-Gon has always taught him that the duty of the Jedi is to care for all beings. In doing so, he may be able to feel how they feel, act selflessly in their honor. Of course, this doesn't extend to the forbidden act of attachment. To be a Jedi is to love, but not so fiercely that it allows you to lose yourself. 

But he has also taught Obi-Wan about the will of the Force. That some things happen that are unexplainable, unwanted. Another duty of the Jedi is to listen and trust in the Force, and this is where Obi-Wan finds himself at a crossroads. 

When he looks at Satine, he sees a young woman he has clashed numerous times with. Though some moments have been tender, many have also been fueled by passions that have torn them apart-- but, have they really? Somehow, through it all, he trusts her deeply. He was disappointed when their assignment together ended so abruptly and that hole was filled by her reappearing in the Temple. As much as he would like to claim that his care for her is the simple compassion a Jedi shows for every person, he is getting worse and worse at lying to himself. This isn't a childish infatuation either-- he knows very well what that feels like and this is not that.

The Force is bringing them together again and again. He can feel it in the way it hums with balance and contentment when they are together. Does one take precedent over the other? Does he place more weight on the Jedi Code or the will of the Force? 

Somehow, she fits into his destiny, and he is not opposed to exploring how.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of a divergence from our P&P skeleton for a bit, but are getting into the good stuff now! This was a fun chapter to write with some Obi whump, endless sass, and a few tender moments. 
> 
> Thank you to all who comment here and on my Tumblr (@hellowkatey if you wanna come say hi!). I love reading your messages and getting to chat with y'all about SW and P&P -- two of my favorite things!


	8. What Excellent Boiled Potatoes!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon, and Satine attend a dinner party at a neighbor's.

In the spirit of Qui-Gon's usual habit of making friends wherever he goes, at the end of their third month on Vorpa'ya, they were invited to dinner. Apparently, the parson of the settlement he visited caught wind of new arrivals and insisted upon an introductory dinner. 

"I do believe this is the very opposite of _laying low_ , Master Jinn," Satine says with a stern tone.

"Not to worry, I have already vetted the intentions of our neighbors. They are quite trustworthy and protective of their own." 

She folds her arms across her chest. "I still don't like it." 

"I assure you, when you meet Collins, you will find those who are after you would sooner consider him an impertinence than hold him for a full interrogation." Qui-Gon chuckles to himself, leaving the two around the vacant fire pit. Obi-Wan watches with amusement as she checks over her shoulder to ensure he is gone before looking back at him with _outrage_ across her features.

"An _impertinence_! Does he actually believe someone who would annoy trained interrogators until they give up would also be a lovely dinner host?" Satine huffs.

Obi-Wan shakes his head. "This is what I was telling you. It's like he has a radar that brings him to the most pathetic lifeform on the planet, and then he befriends it." 

"I just don't understand why we have to go. I'm supposed to be in hiding, not attending brunches." 

"We're running low on supplies as it is. I am guessing he promised this hoping we'd be off-planet by now."

Their stint on Vorpa'ya was lasting longer than expected. Perhaps the Mandalorians did not expect them to stay so close, or maybe they are just gearing up for a new plan. Either way, their landing in the tree grove has quickly turned into their makeshift home in the tree grove. Without much else to do during the day besides taking turns listening to open frequency chatter on the comms and doing perimeter sweeps, Obi-Wan and Satine have taken it upon themselves to spiffy up the place.

(Well, it was Satine's idea and Obi-Wan decided to help since she shouldn't be going off alone anyway.)

Now their firepit has a ring of rocks to keep the ash contained, and a stack of cut wood stacked between two trees. Obi-Wan fashioned some benches for them to sit on, and converted a cargo crate into an adequate table for dining or playing games. They even managed to create an outdoor hut using leafy branches as a rooftop so they aren't contained to the dreary ship if they want to get out of the sun. 

Qui-Gon is generally indifferent towards the remodeling. He mentioned something about them leaving an "obvious trail" for the assassins after they upgraded the fire pit, but after they made the hut he hasn't said a word either way. Though, judging from how often he spends time meditating in the said hut, Obi-Wan has a feeling he has come around. 

"Yes, well I think it's a waste of an evening." 

Obi-Wan scoffs. "Ah yes, we will miss out on our nightly potato and nerf meal and won't spend hours listening to passing star pilots making derogatory jokes about how "sentient" droids are getting nowadays over the open frequencies." She shoots him a sharp look but doesn't argue. "Besides, maybe we can get a real update of what is going on. See if there is anything in the news or if he has a secure comm setup we can use to ask for reinforcements." 

"I don't remember you being the optimistic one, Obi-Wan."

_I'll be anything if it will make you happier._

"I wouldn't dare let things get boring around here," he replies dryly.

Qui-Gon reappears with a handful of potatoes in a pan, handing them to Obi-Wan. "Boil these for tonight, Padawan." 

Obi-Wan looks from the potatoes to his master. "So we aren't going to dinner, Master?" 

"Of course we are. But what kind of guests would we be if we didn't bring a side dish?" Obi-Wan glances at Satine, who is holding back her own amusement. "We will depart once those are done."

"Yes, Master," he says, still staring at the potatoes. Somehow he doesn't think Collins will be particularly thrilled by a house-warming gift of boiled potatoes. 

* * *

"What excellent boiled potatoes!" The parson called Collins exclaims with enthusiasm that is far too elated to be sincere. "It is many years since I have had such an exemplary vegetable. To which of my fair guests should I complement the excellence of the cooking?" 

Satine nearly loses it right there. She locks eyes with Obi-Wan who sits across from her, feeling his boot press up against her shin to signify to her that he too is having to suppress his laughter. Both of them are clutching full glasses of wine, taking frequent sips to cover up their grins. 

So far Satine has had two glasses. Obi-Wan, three. Qui-Gon is trying his best to ignore them. 

"My padawan prepared them just before we walked here," Qui-Gon says. Thankfully _someone_ here has some decorum. Even Collins seems to be lacking in the area. From the moment they entered the modest household, Satine could see that Obi-Wan had a point about the pathetic lifeforms comment. The human male is at her eye-level in height, with a thin frame and ashy white hair that makes his already pale skin look nearly translucent. (How a farmer who supposedly works outdoors all day can maintain such a complexion is beyond her, though perhaps his spiritual position keeps him indoors.) It is difficult to tell whether his stiff posture is due to his thick clothes being far too small on him, or if he is actually strung so tight he seems like he could snap in two if he bent over too quick. While looks can be superficial, it was his manner of speaking that made Satine exchange glances with her tipsy Jedi companion. 

Collins has the ironic pairing of beholding the thickest rural Mandalorian accent while speaking as though he is at a Senatorial banquet. His diction is so formal and accent so severe it all seems like a big joke that even Satine, trained for years in etiquette, is having trouble not breaking down in a fit of laughter. Were his inflection so obviously ungenuine, she might feel bad for passing judgment. He did open his home and offer to cook for them. 

However, it became very apparent from the start Collins is completely oblivious of his ridiculousness, and more concerned with bragging about his own scantily done home improvements.

"Excellent, excellent, what a blessing to have a young person so willing to engage in the culinary arts," Collins muses. "It reminds me of the perfect little outdoor kitchen I built myself in the last season. I presume you all saw it when you arrived?" 

They had seen it-- _outdoor kitchen_ is a generous title for a firepit with a durasteel rod resting on two rocks. Even their own rudimentary means of campsite cooking included a grate Obi-Wan fashioned out of some strips of durasteel for indirect heat and a rotisserie apparatus that can be raised and lowered. 

They all nod their heads, and Satine sees Master Jinn open his mouth to say something, but Collins is already deep into another tangent. 

"I have always had a deep interest in cooking, but was unaware of my talents until my good neighbor D'Bourg was ever so observant of my skills in the kitchen. She praised my technique for being so exquisite, though I assured her I had no formal training of any kind. D'Bourg is one to know too, she has been across the galaxy on more than one occasion. Even as far as Coruscant and Christophsis where she has experienced only the best cuisines." 

Even Qui-Gon has now joined in on exchanging glances with them. 

"This D'Bourg, is she also a farmer?" 

"Oh no, my good sir, D'Bourg is not a permanent resident of our humble planet, just an infrequent visitor. She is an elegant creature of such superior graces she seems to be born to greatness!" his small, dark eyes flicker to Satine with an intensity that makes her squirm in her seat. "These are the kind of little, delicate compliments that are always acceptable to ladies, which I consider myself particularly bound to pay."

 _You've got to be kidding me_.

"How happy for you, Collins," Qui-Gon cuts in gravely. "to possess the talent for flattering with such... delicacy." 

Satine bites back a laugh. She can feel the satisfying buzz of the wine down to her fingertips. Any filter she may have had before has thinned, and now she gives a pointed look to their _esteemed_ host. "Do these pleasing attentions proceed from the impulse of the moment or are they the result of previous study?" 

Obi-Wan is staring at her with wide eyes, the toe of his boot jabbing into her ankle, which only makes it harder to maintain her straight face. 

Collins, on the other hand, seems to have no idea he is being mocked. He wags his pointer finger at Satine a few times. "While I sometimes like to amuse myself by arranging such elegant complements, I always wish to give them as unstudied an air as possible," 

"Believe me, sir, no one would suspect your manners rehearsed." 

"Anyways," Master Jinn emphasizes, giving both the young people stern looks that she suspects means _enough_. "I would love to know more about your favorite dishes to cook, particularly in that outdoor kitchen of yours..." 

Though Collins assured them that he would be more than happy to put on some sleeping mats for them in his living room so they wouldn't have to walk the two kilometers back, Master Jinn was quite insistent that they have an early morning (they don't) and Obi-Wan has some important medications he did not bring with him that he must administer within a certain time frame (he doesn't). This was enough for Collins to release them, but not before trailing after them all the way to his property line and being sure to point out the residence of his good neighbor D'Bourg. 

"She is quite on top of all things going on in the galaxy. Her talents in decor are truly on display in the way she manages to mask the ugly satellites and transmitters of her communications systems," Collins muses. 

This is enough for all of them to stop. Though Collins' was unfortunately clueless of the current events of the civil war, perhaps learning every detail he had to share of his mysterious neighbor was worth the pain of listening to his tangents. 

"What did you say D'Bourg does, Collins?" Qui-Gon inquires lightly. Collins seems pleased by the question. 

"Well, a lady of her eloquence certainly learned it from somewhere! D'Bourg has not told me the exact title of her work, but she has talked extensively about how she receives messages and takes them personally to the receivers."

"A messenger, then?" Obi-Wan asks. 

He laughs. "Oh, young man, a woman as complex and accomplished as D'Bourg is not merely a simple _messenger_. Only those of the utmost importance uses a communication service as personalized as in-person reporting."

"Of course, pardon my generalization," Obi-Wan says dryly. 

"How interesting. I would be honored to meet this neighbor you have talked so much of. Do you know when she will return, Collins?" 

He shakes his head. "Unfortunately, her visits are as spontaneous as she is! I know not when she will grace us with her presence in the near future." 

"A pity. Perhaps we will run into her one day then." 

He grins, folding his hands together behind his back. "I do hope you get the chance." 

"We shall be going then, Collins. We thank you... _again_ for your hospitality." Qui-Gon bows, which seems to rile up Collins in a whole new way. He bows back so quickly she is worried he will smack his nose on his knees. 

"Of course, we will have to do this again soon!" 

The trio turns and starts walking toward their camp. 

"Doubtful," Satine whispers to Obi-Wan as she sways into his shoulder. He snickers, shaking his head with disbelief. 

They walk slowly, until Collins is most definitely back in his own home. Then Qui-Gon stops, looking critically between the two young people. Satine prepares herself to be chewed out for making a scene, but to her surprise, he just looks at Obi-Wan. 

"Padawan, take the Duchess back to camp. I will go pay a quick visit to the D'Bourg residence and see if there is anything of use for us there."

"Master shouldn't I help--"

"You can help by staying with Satine, Obi-Wan. The two of you are not exactly in the state for sneaking around, I suspect."

Even in the dim sunset light, she can see Obi-Wan's cheeks go red. "I apologize for--"

"Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon smiles as he interrupts his padawan. "I am not upset with you. All things considered, you two held it together fairly well. Had Collins been a more observational host I may be chastizing you right now, but I suspect he found your enthusiastic attention endearing." 

Satine holds in her surprise, eyeing the padawan as he seems to go through all the stages of grief in a single moment. "O-oh, okay, Master." 

"Next time, however, I do expect you to mind your wine intake since you now know the limit of your sobriety." 

"Of course, Master." 

_Even a little drunk, the boy is high strung._

Master Jinn looks between them again and then glances off in the direction of D'Bourg's home. "Besides, I am only taking a look tonight," he looks back at his still-agonizing padawan with a playful twinkle in his eye. "I will save the fun for when we _all_ may partake." 

They go their separate ways, the Master Jedi heading back in the direction of Collins's homestead and the two of them back to camp. The fresh air is sobering, but not sobering enough to make the pleasant feeling of a tasteful buzz go completely away. She can tell by Obi-Wan's flushed cheeks and the way he keeps bumping into her as they walk side-by-side that he too is still experiencing the bliss of his edge being taken off. 

Even so, his solemn expression doesn't match his jolly red cheeks. Satine can feel the residual tension between Obi-Wan and his master hanging in the air. It's something she's noticed a lot over their last few months together-- there is an awkwardness between them sometimes. She can see it in the way Obi-Wan will get really quiet sometimes like his master has said something that makes him feel guilty or sad. Satine has yet to catch these little comments, but they must mean something for him to react in such a way. What she has caught is the way he gets when he is given alternate orders than what Master Jinn is doing-- like now. He seems upset, even offended to be walking her back to camp instead of checking out an abandoned home. 

Is it her? Does he still have underlying misgivings about her, even after spending so much time together? Even though they agreed to put that behind them? Or is he just embarrassed to be called out for his-- _their--_ dinner antics.

"Master Jinn..." she trails off as he looks up at her, raising an eyebrow. 

"What about him?" 

"Have you always been his apprentice?" 

"Pretty much. Ever since I was thirteen." 

_Pretty much_. She notes his specific wording.

"Really?"

"Well yes, Masters choose their padawans before they turn thirteen." 

Jedi culture is interesting to Satine, and it's the one thing Obi-Wan consistently is happy to explain to her. Sharing their respective cultures is really the _only_ thing they've found they can talk about extensively without falling into an argument. Neither question the validity of each other's beliefs if they have objections, an unspoken agreement of respect that has gotten them quite far through their time on Vorpa'ya. 

"What if they reach thirteen and do not find a Master?" Satine asks. He stiffens-- just like with Master Jinn. _Interesting... so this is a touchy subject?_ "Obi-Wan?" 

"Uh, well, there are many other pathways for Jedi besides becoming a knight," his tone is wrong. It's not his usual calm and collected inflection but one that makes it seem like he is reading straight from the Jedi rulebook. "Initiates may be slotted to enter the healing, flight, teaching, or... farming, amongst other career paths." 

"I see. Did you ever consider those other paths?" 

"No," he says flatly, staring forward instead of at her. "And unfortunately, those paths are not always a _choice._ " 

"Well, the galaxy always needs farmers, teachers, and healers." 

"I am not saying they are not important professions, Satine. Just that... we believe everything is the will of the Force. Including our fates as Jedi, and sometimes the destiny you feel within you is no the same that the Masters choose to interpret." 

He's saying more than he usually would, but she can feel him holding back. Blame it on an evening of having to keep her composure paired with her wine intake, but Satine is reaching her limit of these half-truths and vague replies he throws at her. They've held one another at an arm's length, only sticking to surface-level topics and conversations that won't cause a blow-up between them. For three months. It's been prodding at her constantly, and suddenly she has the courage to question it. 

What does she really know about him anyway? If anyone were to ask her, she could say she knows his name, that he comes from Stewjon, and is a Jedi. She may be able to recite a few details from his stories of past missions, but other than that, Obi-Wan Kenobi has remained a question mark in her mind. 

"You sound as though you speak from experience," she says carefully. He looks at her, finally, the glow of the moon illuminating his face dimly. Just as she thinks she is going to get something out of the closed book that is Obi-Wan Kenobi, he proves her wrong. He looks away from her, and it's like she can feel him withdraw completely. 

"Perhaps," he says noncommittally. "It's not important, though." 

"Seems important." 

"It really isn't," 

Silence blankets them. Uncomfortable silence. Thunder rumbles in the distance as if there needed to be _more_ tension in the air.

"Damn you, Obi-Wan!" she blurts out. He stops walking, looking at her with that stupid placid expression that is only made worse by the drunken glossiness of his eyes. "I'm _trying_ here. Must you be as dense as beskar?" 

A few raindrops hit her cheek. Neither of them reacts. They're literally less than a quarter kilometer from the campsite. She can see the glimmer of the ship through the trees, and yet she has a feeling this is going to happen right here. 

"Satine, any other topic would be--"

"Any other topic? Oh yes, let's please discuss the lovely climate for the fifteenth time. Or talk about Ilum again, that's a story you quite like to tell. Are we doomed to be caught in the go-around of small talk for the rest of this mission? For galaxies sake, Obi-Wan, can we be _real_ for a moment?" 

He's facing her completely now, his arms crossed and his jaw set, which makes her feel small for some reason. His blue eyes are intense, blinking through the heavy raindrops that have already flattened his hair to his forehead. 

"Real? Are you absolutely sure, that is what you want?"

"Yes!" 

"So what, you want to hear how I aged out of the knighthood program? That the council shipped me off to the Agricorps because Qui-Gon took one look at me and decided I wasn't fit to be his padawan?"

"Obi-" 

"I can outline how I was kidnapped by Master Jinn's former padawan who is conveniently a Dark-sider and holds a wicked grudge. I can tell you what the slave quarters of an underwater mining facility smell like if you are interested. Is that _real_ enough for you, Satine? Is this the deep conversation you were looking for? " 

For reasons she can't explain, tears start to well in her eyes. With every word she can see him unraveling, seemingly shocked that these words are coming out of his own mouth. 

"Obi-Wan, I didn't mean to--" 

"Don't," he rasps. "Please, I really prefer to not talk about Bandomeer."

She steps toward him. "I want to _understand_ you Obi-Wan. As a person, not just a Jedi." 

"Being a Jedi _is_ who I am," he says, but there is a tinge of uncertainty in his expression. Like he doesn't trust his own assertion. 

Satine lets out a deep breath, brushing the tears from her cheek. "I just... I'm tired of this. Tired of hiding here. Being away from my home and I just... We've spent months together and I feel like I don't know you at all. Does it not bother you to spend every waking hour with a person and feel like you are just an acquaintance?"

His hardened demeanor falters, as though the rain is wiping it away. "No," he says, so quietly it is like a whisper. 

"No?" 

"No, I... Satine, I-" his breath hitches, and he pushes the hair that has clung to his forehead aside. "It's like I am wandering aimlessly, but for some reason, I am perfectly content with it." 

A shiver runs up her spine. Maybe it's the rainwater finally soaking her through, but in the back of her mind, she knows her tunic is water-resistant. 

"Wha-what are you talking about?" 

"You wanted real? The truth is, I have been struggling in vain and can bear it no longer. These past months have been a torment..." never has she seen him look so uneasy, so raw. He takes a small step toward her. "Satine, I have not tired with our time here because I get to spend it with you." 

All she can do is stare back at him, her mouth agape at the admission. Satine can feel her heart beating in her ears, her fingertips-- that rhythmic pounding is _everywhere_ , actually. Were her skin not soaking wet from the downpour, her palms would probably be sweating. 

"I cannot explain it. I tried to deny it but despite you being a politician and a pacifist, and somehow we are always, hopelessly at odds, I cannot ignore any longer the feelings I have for you." 

She feels like she is floating out of her body and staring down at herself and the Jedi standing in the middle of a rainstorm. Every part of her is suddenly ignited with shock at the very words leaving the mouth of this boy. Words that make it feel like they are piercing her heart.

And that's just the problem. She's floating, but there is nothing to pull her back down. Their past before the explosion at Sundari flashes through her mind. The ball, the fundraiser, the day in her apartment. Yes, they said the past is the past, but now all she can think about are the loose ends they never tied off. Though she can feel herself stepping closer to him, and him to her, her mind is whirring with anxiety. 

She has a split second to process. He stares at her, eyes wide with hope and nerves, and a drunk glow still occupying his cheeks. Though his valiant efforts to serve her have been a driving force in their good relations, now all she can see is a rickety foundation. And they are playing a dangerous game upon it. 

Her mind is made up. With nobody else to bring her back to solid ground, Satine reels herself in. 

"Obi-Wan, I appreciate the struggle you have been through, and I am sorry if I gave you the incorrect impression. Believe me, it was unconsciously done." 

His soft expression vanishes and Satine feels like her chest is physically tightening at the sight. 

"So this... you're saying you harbor no feelings for me?" 

She swallows thickly. "I'm sure you can find it in yourself to disregard your own feelings using our incompatibilities that you have already listed." 

Now he looks perplexed. "Our incompat-- I didn't mean--" 

"Oh, your purpose was very clear. Despite all that we disagree on morally and politically, you are willing to ignore it... for what? You are a Jedi, Obi-Wan! I am to rule Mandalore. We've only gotten along this long because we refused to actually address how little we have in common. Does that not bother you? How can you say you have feelings for me when all we do is fall into strife?" 

Now he is quiet, looking as though he has been slapped across the face. They are an arms-length from another at most now, and she can feel his warm breath at this point. 

"You never answered my question about having feelings for me." 

_That was deliberate,_ she thinks, trying her hardest to keep a straight face. _The truth is, I have no idea how I feel_. 

She doesn't say that though. The only way he will get the point is if she spells it out clearly. Even painfully. 

"We would never work!" she cries, feeling the emotion welling up in her throat. "From the first time I met you, your arrogance and conceit, your judgments of me and others, made me realize our paths are never meant to cross beyond that of a... _professional_ partnership." 

She whispers the last part, not even sure if she means it. 

The look on his face tells her it doesn't matter if she meant it or not. 

It takes only a moment for him to compose himself back into the stone-faced Jedi... but in that moment she sees a myriad of emotions cross his soft features. 

_Shock. Hurt._ _Rejection_.

And then it's gone. All of it. Tears are still dripping down her face, thankfully masked by the rain, but looks a neutral as ever. 

"We should get back to camp," he says stiffly, starting to walk. The boy she has come to consider a friend despite their rocky relationship is suddenly replaced with the cold, Padawan Kenobi of their first meeting. Somehow her desire to get to know him has backfired dreadfully.

Satine stands motionless, watching as he walks away from her without looking back. 

_Oh,_ _dear_... _What I have done?_

* * *

The hardest part is acting like everything is okay. They're in D'Bourg's home, Qui-Gon fiddling with a communication device while Satine feeds him commlink codes. He volunteered to monitor the perimeter, a suggestion that definitely set of warning signals in the mind of this master, but per usual, Master Jinn did not inquire why he would choose to take on a task he usually complains about. 

In actuality, he just needs space. To think. To concentrate on something other than Satine. The entire night flashes before his eyes like a holofilm. 

It began so perfectly. A ridiculous dinner in which he and Satine sipped wine and took turns kicking one another under the table every time Collins said another outrageous thing. A break in their long-time struggles of trying to find a way to receive communications without basically beaconing their location. Qui-Gon not giving him a lecture. 

And then it all went wrong. 

_Why did she have to bring up Bandomeer? S_ _he doesn't know about Bandomeer, but why did she have to guess?_

He squeezes his eyes shut. The rough beginnings of his apprenticeship are one of his least favorite stories to tell. Satine has a gift for hitting the nail right on the head with things, and this was no exception. He absolutely did _not_ want to discuss it with her. 

But the wine came back to bite him. 

He should have seen it coming. He and wine have never agreed with one another. He always says things he shouldn't. One night, he and Quin downed two bottles each and his friend had to physically restrain him from going to tell Siri he thought she was pretty. When he awoke in the morning with a horrid hangover headache, Quin was the first to remind of his drunken escapades.

Obi-Wan is also fully sure that Quinlan will _somehow_ find out about this because he finds out about everything that is none of his business.

This time, he really messed up-- Blurted about his failure as a padawan and then professed his love for her. All in the same fucking breath. 

He really thought there was hope for a moment. The way she was looking at him... it looked like maybe she might feel the same. 

And then... _professional partnership._ She managed to ever-so-eloquently imprison him into permanent bodyguard status. 

_It's not like I told her I love her, at least... just that I have this insipid crush on her for reasons that don't make sense!_

Deep down, he knows it isn't a silly crush. He could list all the reasons she entices him if anyone were to ask. Her intelligence, her beauty, her humor... paired with the fact even the Force seems to support their pairing, Obi-Wan knows he is in deep. Maybe it _is_ love.

Not that it matters anymore. He will get over it. He will get over _her._ With any luck, they will form a new plan with the information they gather here and this mission will soon be over. 

Obi-Wan can feel the Force presence of Qui-Gon and Satine before he hears their footsteps. Moments later they are right behind him, and he turns from the window he was staring out, raising an inquisitive eyebrow. "Find anything of use?" 

Qui-Gon is holding a portable signal booster. Satine looks uncomfortable, and it is unclear if it is from being around him or the Jedi Master stealing from a civilian. Probably both. 

"Oh indeed. We were able to access reports of the bombing on Sundari as well as the most recent updates on the civil war. The Duchess has also helped us patch into old frequencies in which we should be able to listen in on the communications of both sides." 

"Hence the grand theft signal booster?" Obi-Wan gestures to the device. He swears he sees the corner of Satine's mouth twitch with humor, and a pain in his chest pangs. 

"Hence why we are _borrowing_ this signal booster that is currently collecting dust." 

"So we do intend on giving it back?" 

"Well, of _course_ , Padawan," Qui-Gon smirks. " _Stealing_ is not the Jedi way." 

The Master brushes past him, opening the door to leave. Obi-Wan stands still to allow Satine to follow behind, but to his dismay, she doesn't move for a moment, their gaze locked together. 

She opens her mouth to say something.

"Come young ones," Calls Qui-Gon, impeccable timing, as always. She wordlessly slips out of the house, and Obi-Wan lets out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much of the dialogue with Collins is straight from the Pride and Prejudice (2005) movie or the book (all rights to Jane Austen and the adaptation writers, it's all golden).
> 
> Just when we thought these two were finally getting along-- naturally, Obi nor Satine are allowed to have nice things... at least not yet ;)


	9. Dear Satine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan embarks on a solo mission and Satine receives a letter.

Satine didn't think being on the run could get any worse. Until she lost Obi-Wan.

To be fair, she didn't even really lose him. They still spent day in and day out together. Not that they really had any other choice, but she supposes he could have ignored her completely. He still tells her about his life as a Jedi and listens when she talks about hilariously outrageous political dramas. He doesn't make her take her comm shift alone, and she doesn't leave his side either. 

And yet, though he was nearly always by her side she could feel that a part of him just wasn't there anymore. That's what she missed the most. 

Satine could feel the way he had withdrawn. His eyes didn't linger on her as they once did. His smile wasn't quite so bright. When they would accidentally bump into one another or their touches would cross, he wouldn't lean into it and bask in the fleeting physical contact. Obi-Wan would stiffen, sometimes draw away as though her skin was hot charcoal. He gave her space. Didn't challenge her or joke around with her as he once had. 

She isn't sure what she should have expected. Her rejection of the admission of his feelings for her was harsh, and for that she is regretful.

 _Do I regret shooting down his affections_ _though_?

No. she doesn't. Their match isn't a favorable one. Obi-Wan is a friend, though now she feels she may have even lost that. 

Now she truly feels the weight of her loss as she watches him pack. Master Jinn is sending him on some mission alone for reasons they annoyingly won't talk to her about. She sits in her bunk, knees pulled up to her chest as she watches him shove a few shirts and a handful of rations into his bag. 

"Are we still refusing to tell me what's going on, or have we found sense?" she asks. Obi-Wan doesn't look at her, just shrugs. 

"It's a short mission. A day at most. Nothing you should be concerned with." 

"Funny, it seems to me, the one mission you refuse to tell me about is the one I _should_ be worried about. And why is Qui-Gon sending _you_?" 

"Why wouldn't he?" 

"He's done every other side mission thus far, leaving you with me. Why is this one in particular different?" 

Obi-Wan zips up his bag, holding the zipper between his fingers for a lingering moment. Finally, he looks at her, and she is not ready for the utter lack of any emotion on his face. 

"Perhaps, I volunteered for this one."

Satine swallows hard. "Oh... I see." He slings his bag over his shoulder, looking back at the open door to the outside before looking back at her. 

"It will only be a day or two at most." 

"I trust you'll be careful?" 

He grants her a small smile. "Of course, Duchess." 

Obi-Wan turns and leaves the hold of the ship. A few minutes later she hears the sound of a single-passenger ship firing up and the boom of it taking off into the atmosphere. Now she truly has lost Obi-Wan. 

She stands from the bunk, smoothing her wrinkled clothes. Maybe she will do some laundry today to pass the time. Satine grabs the blanket off her bunk and shakes it loose. In the process, her pillow falls to the ground along with a folded sheet of flimsy she hadn't noticed a moment earlier. She picks it up, unfolding it to discover it is not just one sheet but many sheets of flimsy covered in Aurebesh writing. As she reads the first lines her heart starts to pound. 

> _Dear Satine,_
> 
> _I write to you, not with the intention of repeating my sentiments I made to you a week earlier, but in an effort to say what has been left unsaid. It is a funny thing, really. Every public speaking and debate course the Jedi Temple has ever thrown in my direction has come so naturally to me. It is why I am so perplexed at how your very presence can leave my tongue twisted. As much as I wish I could say this to you in person, I feel by writing it down I have the best chance of explaining myself and why I revealed my feelings for you that night in the rain. I ask your pardon for the freedom by which I ask for your attention._

Satine sits back down on her bunk, flipping the first page over to continue. 

* * *

Seeing Vorpa'ya behind him is a relief he didn't realize he needed. Sure the country is beautiful, but having been cooped up with only the company of Master Jinn and Satine for much of their three months away, Obi-Wan is pleased he decided to convince his master to allow him this solo mission. 

That, and it gave him a chance to explain himself to Satine. He squeezes the steering apparatus until his knuckles go white. He hopes she even sees the letter he left under her pillow... but if he knows anything about Satine it's that she is obsessive about making her bunk every morning. She will see it when she fluffs her pillow for sure.

A part of him was nervous she would engage in her morning ritual while he packed, but thankfully she was far too set on pestering him about the _mysterious mission_. 

Obi-Wan plugs coordinates into the navicomputer of the ship they borrowed from a neighbor. The mission is not so much classified as it is a plan that he knew Satine would not like. The ship jolts forward into hyperspace, and space around him blurs. 

Essentially, Obi-Wan will act as a diversion. Their interception of Mandalorian communications indicated that bounties have been released on Duchess Satine to be brought back alive... accompanied by a preferably-dead or alive order for Master Jinn and himself. With such a high bounty, their chances of evading discovery while staying within the Mandalorian sector shot down drastically. 

So Obi-Wan will fly to the next sector. Set off a fake communication signal and then jump to the next. Let the signal die at the junction of a trade route, and with any hope, the assassins will follow the trail without realizing it is a dead end. Master Jinn was impressed with the idea Obi-Wan came up with, and while in his good mood he offered to carry out his own plan. 

"I assumed you would want to stay with the Duchess, padawan," Qui-Gon said with a wry smile and a raised eyebrow. He nearly cringed at the implications of whatever his master could be implying in his expression. 

"I just thought it would look less like a trick for them to pick up my communications. A Jedi Master sending them out is one thing, but they will not expect a padawan to be alone, away from his Master and the Duchess." 

"This is true, you would be doing this alone, Obi-Wan. At some points you will be systems away, do you feel ready for this?" 

Obi-Wan smiled. "Yes, Master. I do. You have prepared me well, and I feel this is our best shot to get Satine back home." 

Qui-Gon nodded. "The Force agrees. I have a good feeling about this. You will drop the communication coordinates as we have discussed and go dark on your way back. Don't let it take more than two standard days, though." 

"Based on my calculations, it should only take one." 

His route is carefully crafted. He first will arrive above the atmosphere of Phindar-- not exactly his ideal choice, but it is habited and close enough to Mandalore to make sense. Then he will follow the Salin Corridor to Botajef, which is a crossroads of the Hydian Way and the Celanun Spur. From there, they will have to disperse. They will have to reason if they decided to go to Celanon, out of the lanes to Dathomir, or cut back to Harloen. Even so, they would have to check Raydonia and Katraasil in case they decided to loop back. Their supposed footprints will only lead to more questions and spread out the resources across the galaxy. 

A jump to Phindar, and then a jump to Botajef. Then he disappears-- or so the Mandalorians think. 

He emerges from hyperspace with the lush greenery of Phindar looming below him. At the very sight of it, Obi-Wan is brought back to half a decade earlier when he and Qui-Gon came here for a mission. Obi-Wan's first official mission as a padawan.

Well, technically they weren't _supposed_ to come to Phindar, but their ship sprung a leak and they ended up there anyway. Not exactly a preferred pit stop, especially with a nefarious crime syndicate terrorizing the people, but it was where the Force deemed Jedi presence necessary. 

And apparently, the Force also deemed it necessary for Obi-Wan to be captured and nearly get his memory erased. But it also granted him the strength to resist it, so maybe Qui-Gon has a point about trusting in it. 

Obi-Wan shakes off the memories. _Not the time to dwell._ He transmits the first communication-- a plea to the Jedi Council for aid, but he transmits it through the unsecured channel they found out the Mandalorians have already intercepted. They will be watching for such a message, so it will hopefully be the perfect bait. As soon as the confirmation comes through, he enters the next coordinates. Botjaf next. 

The lush rainforests of Phindar blur into streaks of bright light and Obi-Wan puts a shred of his past behind him once again. 

* * *

> _Two reasons of very different natures and very different magnitudes seem to be the root of the chasm between us. I mean this not just as a basis for our incompatability, but also of our friendship going forward, which is why I wish to address it. The first, that our rocky beginnings are still looming over us. I found myself caught with the feeling that perhaps our agreement to forget the past was not adequte in actually addressing the reason there were disagreements in the first place._
> 
> _So let us start from the beginning. The very beginning, in which you had no idea of our assignment to guard your safety until your safety was compromised._

Satine remembers the ball when she first laid eyes on Obi-Wan Kenobi. Where his poor manners were the defining feature of her perception of him when he laughed at the prospect of dancing with her.

> _It seems I made a poor impression on you in some way. Though I am unaware in how exactly I offended you that night, it seems my actions did not set the best of tones for our working relationship. I was admittedly in a bit of an impertinent mood, though, so I do not doubt the validity of your feelings. As you have come to know, politicians are not exactly my preference of company, and to be surrounded by senators had me in quite a tizzy._

She smiles, practically able to hear Obi-Wan saying this aloud to her. He has surely complained about his distrust for politicians (always giving her an exception, though) many times. The depth of his displeasure is amusing to her as she shares many of the same sentiments in some of the politicians she has had to deal with. 

> _I do plea for clarity on that night if you feel fit to provide it. I have a feeling whatever boot I put in my mouth may be enjoyable for you to dangle before me._
> 
> _Then there is the matter of when I came alone to your residence and met your friends and family. A fun afternoon, I might add, including the bravado of your sister attempting to intimidate me. It was the first time I felt like we had formed a bond of sorts-- one fostered in our typical habit of trying to gain the upper hand on one another, but a friendly exchange of sarcasm. It was after this time I really felt the urge to know you better._
> 
> _When the fundraiser night came, I was determined to rewrite the past. Not act like a stick in the mud as I had at the Senatorial Ball. Perhaps I did think I was to act as your date, but either way I still had the opportunity to spend time with you, which was my only goal. Admittedly, seeing Nel so unattentive to a night you were so obvoiusly excited about was disappointing to me. I thought dancing might ease the tension. I was wrong._
> 
> _When I was young, I had a fellow classmate who I would often butt heads with. We were constantly fighting, sometimes with words and other times physically. (Not very becoming of a Jedi, and I suffered the consequences of my childhood anger when I was passed over to be chosen as a Padawan and the Order sent me to the Agricorps.)_

She blinks in surprise, reading the previous sentence over again. _I was passed over to be chosen as a Padawan._ Something must have changed, obviously, but now his outburst is starting to make sense. 

> _The point of this anecdote is that my creche master would tell me that Bruck and I were two stars in a battle for who blazes brighter. The problem was, we never stopped to consider what we lose by trying to burn so ferociously. She tried to teach us to find the balance of our opposing blazes-- to think about everyone around us as planets and people who use our light to regulate their climate and habitabilty. No planet with a sun that scorches its earth is a place people want to live, and so two Jedi who endlessly argue and try to one-up the other is not condusive to being a team._
> 
> _Maybe that is who we are, too, Satine. Two stars that can't decide how bright to burn around each other. When I am around you, I lose the control my masters tried so hard to instill in me. Maybe that is why you find it so hard to figure me out-- why there seems to be different sides of me when I don't mean there to be. I am struggling to find my balance. I want to answer any questions you have for me. Tell you every thought I feel like saying aloud and be the open person you have expressed you desire me to be. I want to be that man for you, but the truth is the reality of my past is not a happy one. There is a reason I find it difficult to talk about the devastation I felt when Qui-Gon refused to be my Master, or the worthlessness I experienced when I was sent to the Agricorps. I have seen horrible things, Satine. Been through horrific experiences that still plague my dreams. I want nothing more than to have only pleasant memories to share with you, but that is not the life I have lived. So I don't talk about them because it seems easier to just try my best to forget all of it ever happened._
> 
> _It's my way of controlling the image of who I am, but as I have learned, you are very good at seeing through my bullshit._
> 
> _Yes, we have very different ideas of what peace looks like. Very different views of what it takes to win a war, rule a planet. Maybe our propensity to disagree about so much is an incompatabiity as you said. But I also do not want to lose you to a variable difference in the definition of peace. I want to know you, and if that means you having to know the parts of me that are less pleasant then I am willing to try._
> 
> _But if I may now address the second issue:_ _I am a Jedi and you are a Duchess. Our paths are inherently different. Now, I do not know the tribulations to rule a planet, and so I will not speak for you. What I do know is what it is to be a Jedi._
> 
> _Ever since I met you I find myself in a battle between the code I have sworn myself to and the will of the Force. I have told you the Jedi cannot have attachments. We are not meant to trifle with the follies of romance but yet... I cannot deny that the Force sings around you in a way I have never experienced. Am I more indebted to the Order in which I am a part of or the will of the Force itself? The answer to that question, I am still meditating extensively upon._
> 
> _Qui-Gon often tells me to trust in my feelings. I have spent three months thinking about what my feelings are leading me to and the simple answer is you. I wish not to impose my feelings upon you. I do not expect you to forgive me for any imposition I may have caused, and this is not a further declaration of my romantic feelings for you. I only wanted to explain where I am coming from so you may have the clarity you deserve._
> 
> _You may possibly wonder why I haven't said this to you in person-- believe me, I wish I had the eloquence of speech and the strength of will to look you in the eye and tell you how I feel. This just felt easier, and I hope that it puts less pressure on you in my return. I grant you the freedom to do with this letter whatever you please. Bring up its contents, question me if you please. Or throw it in the fire and act as though you never read it. Whatever you choose, I will always be your Jedi protector and friend._
> 
> _Best,_
> 
> _Obi-Wan Kenobi_

She reaches the end, staring at his name at the bottom of the page.

* * *

Botajef looms below Obi-Wan's ship, the products of its shipyards in a tight orbit. The many ships in this densely packed area make it even easier to carry out this part of his mission-- he transmits the message, and immediately begins programming the navicomputer. 

As the computer works, Obi-Wan wonders if she's read his letter yet. If she has, what climate will he be returning to? His hopes are low of her returning his sentiments, but at least maybe things can be slightly less awkward. More out in the open. 

Of course, all of this would be so much easier had he not have gone on this drunken mission of confessing his feelings for the woman he's sworn to protect. For the hundredth time, he imagines how things would be different had he just kept his mouth shut. Things were so much simpler. So much left unsaid. And while it sometimes physically pained him to have to be around Satine and have her not know how it feels like he's floating when she speaks to him or the way his heart soars when they touch, at least it was contained. The secret of Obi-Wan's affections for the duchess was something he kept close to his heart. At night he would lay in his bunk, fully aware that she slept only an arm's length away from him, and he would contrive what it would be like to be with Satine. To love, and to be loved in returns felt like the greatest gift he can imagine. In his dreams, he treasured not knowing of her feelings back for him. It gave him the independence to imagine that maybe she too harbors feelings for him and daydream of how this revelation would spark between them. 

Instead, he blurted out a declaration of his feelings-- unprompted and not at all the words he wanted to say to her. How could he have spent so long imagining this very moment of professing himself to her only to blunder? 

A confirmation code pops up on the navicomputer. He can already hear the engines beginning to wind up to jump into hyperspace. _I suppose we shall find out what is waiting for me back at camp_. He reaches out to surge the ship into hyperspace, but a prickle down his spine makes him yield. He senses a ship-- coming in quickly and deliberately. An armed ship.

The Force tells him to run. 

But before he can thrust the ship into hyperspace and leave behind whatever danger is lurking, he is struck from behind, sending his body slamming into the console. His head cracks against the navicomputer, making him see quadruple as he pushes himself up and grabs onto the steering apparatus. The only evasive action he can think to take is to just step on the thrusters and start moving out of his idle state. As his vision clears he can finally take in the situation-- A small fighter is actively looping back around, its canons fired up with deactivators. He looks down at the computer, and to his dismay the screen is dark. 

Whoever is in that fighter blocked his computer signals-- blocking his ability to go into hyperspeed. He's stuck until he can restart the system. 

Obi-Wan curses every swear word he can think of under his breath, grabbing the steering manually and lurching the ship to the side as the fighter makes another pass. He has to go into a barrel roll maneuver, making his already-spinning head turn even more. 

"Oh, not good," he says aloud, dodging another assault of cannon fire. The small ship is relentless, obviously with some sort of goal in mind. Botajef is not unfriendly airspace. Whoever is coming after him is doing so because they know he is here.

Obi-Wan has a horrible feeling that he won't be making it back to Vorpa'ya at the time he told Master Jinn. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! It's been a long time since I've updated, but rest assured, I have not abandoned this! I participated in Febuwhump which kept me pretty busy, but now I am back to regularly scheduled programming.


End file.
